


Threads

by red_to_black



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Briam, Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I.E.D, Liam is canon-compliant underage, M/M, Romance, Scent Marking, Slash, Slightly Canon-Divergent, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 152,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_to_black/pseuds/red_to_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night at Sinema is all it takes to change everything Brett and Liam thought they knew about one another. The tricky part is making it all work out.</p>
<p>(Or the one where Brett stubbornly refuses to acknowledge how he feels about Liam).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - Scent

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more of these two dorks in my life. Unbeta'd, I've never used A03 before so bear with me while I work out the kinks! I'll add tags as they become applicable to the work. Thanks for reading :)

**Chapter One - Scent**

Brett's only been at Sinema for an hour or so when he catches it.

He's dancing, and he's used to other people's scents filling his nose, used to it not really mattering (if something was really off, he'd be able to tell), so when he catches it over the sweat and alcohol and drugs over the air, he knows exactly what it is.

He keeps dancing, but he looks around as he does, his height an advantage. He catches sight of Mason first, in the corner and talking to a guy almost twice as wide to him. 

Sitting nearby, but not too close, is Liam, looking strung out and slightly miserable. Brett smirks. Sinema really isn't his scene. He's gotta give the kid credit, though, for continuing to stick it out in the name of being a good friend. 

He's not surprised he caught Liam's scent, even from where he is. He's not going to go over there, though - their relationship, even improved, is still sort of tumultuous. Both of them seem determined to stick it out for Mason's sake. Brett wouldn't mind more, though.

He wonders if Liam has caught his scent yet, but even as he looks over, Liam doesn't move much, just takes a swig of his Coke and then sets it back down. Brett snorts. Liam would be the kind of guy to sneak into a club and not even drink.

There's a pretty blonde trying to catch his attention, and so he zeroes in on that, loses himself in the sway of her hips and how soft her skin is. When the song is over, though, she disappears into the bathroom and he doesn't see her again.

He's ordering another drink from the bar when Liam's scent fills his nose again. He turns around to find him standing right there, hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans.

"Liam," he says pleasantly.

"Hi," Liam says awkwardly.

Brett takes a draw of his drink. "You knew I was here?"

"Kind of hard not to," Liam says, "when you were looking at me before."

"You should've come over."

Liam raises an eyebrow and gestures to where the blonde has rejoined her group of friends. "You were busy," he says drily. 

Brett laughs. "Are you playing guard dog again?"

"Last time he came here and hooked up with someone successfully, said person nearly killed him and almost ripped your spleen out," Liam says. "So yeah, I'm playing guard dog again."

"Sounds fun."

"It's not," Liam counters irritably. "And we don't look nearly old enough to be here. What if this place gets busted?"

Brett has to roll his eyes at that, because the Beacon Hills police department has definitely got more on their minds than underage drinking. "Then they'll focus on the underage employees, give everyone else a smack on the wrist and move on," he says. "You know, if you're here you may as well have fun."

"How?" Liam asks blankly.

Brett finishes his drink, turns Liam around and marches him into the throng of people, grinning when he catches wind of the nervous chemo-signals Liam's putting out. He gets Liam to face him, starts to sway gently, but Liam is rooted to the spot.

Brett smirks. Liam won't move, and Brett can smell the nervousness on him like it's as obvious as cologne to the human nose. 

"Never danced before?" he asks.

Liam's eyes flash angrily. "I'm not exactly old enough to be here regularly," he snaps.

Right. Liam's fifteen. Brett should've remembered that. He shrugs, steps closer to Liam, who looks like he wants to back away, but stands his ground. "Why're you here, Liam?" he asks.

"Mason. He needs a wingman."

Brett points to across the room, where Mason is tangled up dancing with a guy a head taller and twice as wide. "He doesn't need a wingman," Brett says. "He's doing just fine on his own."

Liam looks away from him, shoves his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. Brett watches as Liam licks his lips, continuing to look around - like he's searching for someone.

Brett didn't figure that Liam was actually on-edge for a reason. It's not like the kid needs a reason to be on edge, between his alpha pretty much leaving him to his own devices, his I.E.D and the chimeras popping up - literally - all over the place.

"You okay?" he asks, because he's not so much of an asshole that he isn't going to at least check. 

Liam doesn't answer, preoccupied with twisting his head around further, still looking for... whatever it is he's looking for. Vigilance is fine, Brett's cool with that, but this is bordering on delusional and Liam sticks out like a sore thumb. Brett rolls his eyes.

"You need to loosen up," he says to Liam over the music.

Liam shoots him an irritated glance - _of course he heard,_ Brett thinks sourly, _he's just choosing to ignore you_ \- and takes a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

Brett's not really sure why he does it, but in the next second he's stepping close to Liam, right up in his personal space - close enough to smell him even over the sweat and alcohol of all the other club-goers - and reaching out. He puts his hand firmly on Liam's waist, tugs him in close, snug up against his own torso.

Liam's heartbeat jacks up, hammering, Brett's own personal bass, and he says, "What the hell are you doing?" But Brett can smell Liam, and knows he's not angry. Nervous, annoyed, but not angry.

Brett smirks down at Liam, holds him fast even when he squirms. "I'm dancing with you," he says. "Seriously, Liam. You're too tense. Lighten up."

Liam's eyes flicker up to his face, flashing under the strobes and lasers of Sinema. "I can't dance."

"I'm gonna teach you."

Liam resists, half-heartedly, and Brett puts his other hand on Liam's waist, holding him there. Liam could get away if he wanted to. He doesn't try. 

"That's what I thought," Brett murmurs. 

"Mason-"

"Is fine," Brett interrupts. "Liam. Dance."

"I don't know how!" Brett's not imagining that Liam sounds distinctly growly. He reminds himself that it's almost the full moon; _don't push him too far, Talbot, or he'll wolf out and claw his way out of here._

Brett ducks his head, so close to Liam that the shorter one has to tilt his head back to see his eyes. "Relax," Brett murmurs, "and dance with me, okay?"

Liam swallows. Finally, he nods.

"Good," Brett murmurs. With that, he winds Liam in closer, closer, until their hips are flush and he can feel the line of Liam's abs against his own. "Like this," he says, beginning to sway his hips. "Just do what I do."

Liam's flushed. Brett pretends not to notice, out of courtesy. 

"Brett," he mumbles. "I'm still worried about Mason."

"I can see him from here," Brett says, and he's being honest, knows his heartbeat won't give him away. "He's right over there. Do you trust me, Liam?"

Liam's eyes shift up towards him. "I trust you," he murmurs.

There's weight behind the words. Brett ignores that. Liam's pliant and loose under his hands, going along with his movement, willing and able. Not, for once, frothing with barely-bottled anger and rage, spitting-mad or having an episode. 

It takes a while, but he feels it when Liam loosens up, realises nobody's really watching him. Notices when Liam's hands slide up to grasp Brett's sides, almost uncertain, like he's not sure it's allowed but wants to at least try.

Brett wants Liam to touch him.

He smelled the change in Liam the moment he got off the bus, that day before the scrimmage, knew that Liam had been bitten and turned - recently, if his lack of self-control was anything to go by. It took him a while to figure out why it pissed him off so much, but once he did, well, there was no point denying that Liam's changed.

His wolf isn't the only thing that knows what it wants. Brett's known for a long time. And even if Liam doesn't want the same - well, Brett's happy with just this dance. 

When the rock of Liam's pelvis against his is reaching a more natural level of movement, Brett tilts his head so that his mouth is against Liam's ear. "That's it," he murmurs. "You're getting good at this, Dunbar."

He feels the shudder that travels up Liam's body, the prickles that raise the hairs on his arms and neck. Liam bites back a noise in his throat, and when Brett leans back, smirking - he got a rise out of Liam Dunbar, and that's always been fun - Liam's eyes flash gold at him. 

"Oh," Brett says. "You're that type, huh?"

Liam blinks, and the gold fades. "Sorry."

His movements are stuttering, like he's suddenly realised where he is. Brett tightens his grip, snakes one hand further back to slide the pads of his fingers against the dimple in Liam's lower back. 

A ragged sound forces its way past Liam's lips. He's shaking. Brett suddenly notices his eyes are shut, eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks, like he's disengaged - like he doesn't know where he is. Liam reaches up, like he's looking for something to hold onto, finds Brett's shoulder.

Well, shit. Brett didn't mean for this to happen. He holds Liam's wrist, the one perched on his shoulder, feels Liam's pulse fluttering faster than usual against his thumb. "Hey," he says. "Liam. Hey."

Liam blinks his eyes open. He's confused. Brett can smell it coming off him in waves. Not afraid, though. So...

"Are you okay?" Brett asks. "Do you want to stop?"

Liam shakes his head, but Brett doesn't know what that's an answer to. Of course Dunbar would stop talking smack the moment Brett actually needs him to say something.  
So he tries something. He loosens his grip, begins to pull away.

Liam shuffles closer, staring up at him like Brett's got answers to questions Liam doesn't know how to ask. So Brett tightens his grip and smiles, in what he hopes is in an encouraging, not-creepy way. 

"You alright?"

Liam nods.

"Alright. Wanna keep dancing?"

Liam nods again. 

It's easier to fall back into the rhythm this time, because Liam isn't as awkward, doesn't have to be coaxed, and Brett is totally focussed on Liam - on avoiding whatever the hell that was before. He's not sure exactly. Liam's not afraid of him. That's not it. But Brett can't pinpoint exactly what it is. 

Liam's hand slides up his neck. Brett lets his forehead lean against Liam's, sweat mingling, Liam's hair mixing with his own. He opens his eyes, sees Liam's shut, his mouth open. He hones in on Liam's breathing, soft panting. 

He sure as shit knows Liam hasn't been dancing long or hard enough to be exhausted, so it only takes him another moment to work out that Liam's horny and fuck, is Liam a virgin? He didn't think so, but now that he's paying attention, he can't smell anyone else's scent on Liam, not strongly enough to indicate a girlfriend or boyfriend. Mason is there, but it's faint, the result of casual, friendly touches. Is Brett honestly grinding on a fifteen year old virgin in a club?

Liam digs his fingernails into the back of Brett's neck, and he decides he doesn't care. His hand wanders to that spot again, the small of Liam's back, where the two dimples on either side of his spine are. He presses his knuckles in.

Liam goes boneless in his arms, sags against him, everything from their groins to their chests melded together. He's panting louder now. Brett would be lying if he said that didn't stir up something in his stomach.

He moves his hands, presses his thumbs heavily into Liam's hips, letting his hands wrap around to his back.

"Brett," Liam gasps out. "Uh-"

"Shut up," Brett murmurs. "I know. Me too."

He tilts Liam's head back and kisses him, soft under the lights, feeling the movement of Liam's lips against his. The skin of his cheeks and jaw is soft, smooth. He's either just shaved or doesn't have to yet. Brett isn't sure which idea he likes more. 

Liam groans into the kiss, long, protracted, claws at Brett's sides. "Okay, okay," Brett murmurs, breaking away. "Easy."

He takes Liam's hand and leads him off the dance floor. He nods at Mason, who's watching them with his jaw nearly on the ground. Is Liam even gay? Hell if he knows. 

Sinema's back room is just as loud, but much more private. He presses Liam up against the wall and leans his full weight against him, slotting a leg between Liam's thighs. Liam tilts his head back, his eyes flashing again.

_Scott really needs to train this kid more,_ Brett thinks, even as he meets the gaze. He knows his own eyes flash in return and, to his surprise, Liam's dull. He turns his head meekly to the side, offering up his pulse point.

Submission.

Brett goes from zero to a hundred in about two seconds flat, leaning in and closing his mouth over the throbbing artery in Liam's neck. No one, not even another wolf lower on the pack chain of command, has ever submitted like that before. He wonders if Liam did it because he wanted to or because he thought Brett would like it.

Liam moans outright, pushing his hips up into Brett's thigh and, yep, that is definitely a boner. Brett focuses on the hickey, on leaving his mark for as long as he can, relishing the feeling of Liam rutting up against him desperately.

He pulls back after a moment, admiring the glistening spot on Liam's neck. "Could you come from this?" he murmurs.

Liam nods breathlessly.

Brett reaches down, palms at the front of Liam's jeans. It earns him Liam, bucking against his hand, his name, "Brett," spoken in a low, pleading cry.

"What?" he teases.

"Please," Liam murmurs, inching his face closer. "Come on."

"Okay. Since you asked nicely."

Liam shivers desperately when Brett pushes his shirt up, his other hand staying on Liam's package. He traces above the waistband of Liam's boxers, feels him shudder. The skin there jumps, hot and ready, beneath his fingertips.

"Come on," Brett coaxes gently. "Come on, Liam. Come on."

Liam outright whines at that, a high, needy noise in the back of his throat, tilts his head again like he's asking Brett to mark him up. Brett's only too happy to oblige him. He sucks, gently, tongues at the pulse point, at Liam's jaw, pushing his thigh rhythmically against Liam. Liam's pulse hammers against his tongue; Brett wants to bite him, draw blood, but he can't do that here, and he's not sure Liam would be into that.

Instead, he scratches gently at the back of Liam's neck, feeling Liam shudder against him. "Come on," he says again. "Come on, Liam. For me?"

He feels Liam's orgasm hit him, the way it forces his hips forward, slams the breath out of him and leaves him gasping for a few seconds. He reels Liam forward by the back of his neck as he comes down, cradling the smaller boy against him, Liam's forehead on his collarbone.

"You made a mess," Brett remarks lightly.

Liam looks down at himself like he's surprised. "Oh," he says.

Brett laughs. "Yeah. Oh."

Liam looks up at him, flushed from his orgasm. "Um," he says. "That was..."

Brett claps his shoulder. "Yeah, seemed pretty intense."

"Are you...?"

"I'm okay," Brett says, because he's getting the distinct vibe Liam hasn't ever done anything like this before - with anyone, much less an old rival. He probably needs a moment to process coming in the back room of Sinema with Brett's leg between his. "You need a ride home?"

"Mason," Liam says, blinking. "Um, I came here with Mason."

"Okay," Brett says. "Well, you can let him know. You can't walk around like that." There's no evidence on Liam's jeans, but he looks flushed, and Brett can't imagine the mess is actually comfortable. 

"I'll find him," Liam says.

Brett watches Liam thread his way through the club to find Mason. He can't help himself; he listens in on their conversation, smirking at Mason's unbridled glee that Liam finally hooked up with someone. 

Brett knows Mason can't smell it, but every other were-creature in Beacon hills will be able to now; Brett's scent all over Liam, marking him. No one who can smell it will come near Liam unless they're looking for a fight. 

Liam's back a few moments later, furiously red in the face. "We can go."

Brett chooses not to comment on the new colour of Liam's face, instead leading the way to the car. As they climb inside, he notices that Liam's shirt has a wet patch on the front.  
"What's that?"

Liam looks down. "Someone spilled something on me," he says. 

Brett opens his glove box and tosses the shirt inside to Liam. "Here." 

"Thanks." Liam doesn't protest, and Brett feels a smug sense of satisfaction when the shirt is on, almost completely concealing Liam's scent beneath his own. 

Now that they're not dancing or getting off, Liam's fidgeting with a thread in the knee of his jeans. "So," he says, "was that uh, was that a one off thing?"

Brett shrugs. "It's whatever you want it to be," he says. 

"Did you like it?" Liam asks uncertainly.

Brett smirks. "I got hard, didn't I, Dunbar?"

Liam flushes again; Brett can smell the embarrassment through the car. "Well," Liam says, determinedly not looking at Brett, "maybe we can do it again sometime." He turns to Brett in a swift, startled movement. "Wait, are you even gay?"

"I'm bi," Brett says dryly. Every time. He gets this question every time. He prepares himself for an onslaught of questions, like the ones he's heard already - "do you mean just tonight because I'm a guy, am I that hot" or anything else as such, but it doesn't come.

Liam just sits back in his chair, clutching his damp t-shirt in his hand, and says simply, "Oh. I didn't know."

Brett smirks. "That's probably because I never told you."

"Did you know?" Liam asks curiously. "While I was still at Devonford?"

"Yeah. I wasn't out though." Brett glances at Liam. "What about you?"

"Oh. I dunno." Liam fidgets with the shirt. "I guess I'll figure it out eventually."

"No gay panic?" Brett asks.

Liam blinks. "You do know Mason's gay, right?" he asks uncertainly. "If I was gonna have a gay panic I would've done it by now."

Brett could fault Liam for a million things - the uncontrolled I.E.D outbursts, his refusal to take his medication because it interferes with lacrosse, the way he used to get into fights every other day, but he really can't fault him for this. For all that, Liam is oddly straightforward and practical. Level headed, as long as his I.E.D is in check.

Brett pulls up at Liam's house, turns to look at him. "Well, it's been fun," he says, clapping Liam's shoulder.

Liam smiles, almost unwillingly. "Yeah. Um, thanks for the shirt. Should I just give it to Mason to give to you?"

Brett shrugs. "Whatever works." He was sort of hoping Liam would return it himself, give him a reason to see the kid again.

"Okay. Thanks for the ride."

They don't mention anything else, but Brett waits until Liam's inside, upstairs, in his room, before putting the car in reverse and driving away.

And that's all it is. Until next week, that is.  



	2. Two - Mountain Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who read and commented and bookmarked and left kudos on the first chapter! I'm so glad people like it <3 (How do kudos work by the way?). This chapter is hurt/comfort and angst and even a little bit of plot. Hope you all enjoy!

**Chapter Two - Mountain Ash**

It's been just over a week and Brett's back at Sinema.

It's not like this is his favourite place to be, but Hayden can get him in through the back and he doesn't need ID to get drinks here, because the bartender thinks he's hot and doesn't check to see if he's of age. Brett looks older anyway, about to turn seventeen, so he figures it's fine. It's not like he can get alcohol poisoning and die anyway.

Still, it's not his club of choice. He's been to the Jungle and that was better, a few other joints he can't remember the names of. But it's Friday night and he's bored out of his mind, tired of Satomi asking questions about Liam's scent hanging around him still. So here he is. 

He's danced with a few people, but nothing is really holding his interest. He thought he saw Mason before, but couldn't catch his scent to be sure if it was him. Besides, he's more interested to see if Liam accompanied him, but if he did, he must be avoiding Brett, because nothing has happened. 

He's in the middle of the floor, swaying along absently, his thoughts drifting. He's thinking about leaving. Even if just because nothing exciting is happening.

He turns to head to the bar, but someone grabs his wrist. He whips around, startled by the contact, and is surprised to see Liam standing there, staring up at him. 

His night just got better. 

"Back for more already?" Brett asks, leaning in close to Liam. "Damn, Dunbar, I make you come once and you can't stay away. Was it that good?"

Liam steps in close to him and grabs his waist. Brett laughs.

"Okay, okay. If I'd known that dancing with you last time was gonna do this, I might not have done it. You've got game."

Liam still hasn't said anything, holding fast to Brett's waist with an iron grip. Brett registers the dull pain, finally, says, "Hey, Liam, it's cool. Don't freak out. I'm just teasing."

He raises his hand to the back of Liam's neck, intending to give him a playful tug, just to watch his shoulders scrunch, and feels the zap as his body absorbs pain. Liam's pain, surging black up his veins. "Hey," he calls over the music. "You okay?"

"Stomach hurts," Liam mumbles. Brett realises he must've drawn enough pain out of Liam to make him lucid again. 

"Hey. What'd you take, huh? What'd you take?" He has to know if he's got a hope in hell of fixing the kid up again. He didn't think Liam was dumb enough to take some random pill someone gave him, but here he is, looking like he's fighting to keep his feet underneath him.

"Didn't." Liam's slurring his words, swaying where he's standing, leaning his weight against Brett. He's flushed, hot all over. 

Brett tries again. "Where's Mason?" he asks. He thinks, maybe, if he can find Mason, Mason might be able to tell him what Liam's taken - if anyone's given him anything. Normal drugs don't work on them, so it has to be someone who knows Liam's a werewolf.

"Brett," Liam says dizzily.

He notices Liam going slack like a puppet with cut strings and grabs him, hauling him in close to keep him upright. "Liam, is Mason here?" he asks desperately. 

But Liam's leaning fully against him now, and Brett tunes into his heartbeat. It's pounding, taking up all the space in his ears, irregular and stuttering. He wraps an arm around Liam's neck, looking over the top of his head to try and find Mason. 

"Brett!"

He doesn't have to look long; Mason is making a beeline for them, eyes wide and startled. "Hey," he says. "Is Liam-"

"Something's wrong with him," Brett interrupts. "He's sick, we have to get him out of here."

Mason looks at Liam in alarm. His eyes are closed, hands fisted into Brett's shirt like he's trying to steady himself. His knees are slack, pressed into Brett's upper shins.

"We could get him to a bathroom," Mason yells. "See what's wrong."

"We need to get him out of here," Brett snaps back.

"Dude, what if he's hurt? He might need help right now." Mason turns away from them, looking for someone. "Wait here," he says, and bolts.

Brett stares helplessly after him. He can't move with Liam leaning against him like this, and he's not convinced Liam would be able to stand up if he were to leave him here. 

Liam gives a low, pained moan into the base of Brett's throat. His chest squeezes. "It's okay, Liam," he says helplessly. "We're gonna help you."

Mason's back a moment later. "I've got the key to the employees' bathroom," he says. "It's this way."

Brett slowly starts hustling Liam in Mason's direction, briefly wondering how exactly Mason got the key - who he had to bribe - before remembering that Hayden knows Mason and Liam and probably got it for them. He doesn't care. As long as they make sure Liam's okay and get him out-

When did he actually start to care? More to the point, if Mason's here, why did Liam seek Brett out?

"Brett," Liam croaks.

"I've got you," Brett responds automatically. 

Great. Stairs. Mason's halfway up them, but Brett has no idea how Liam's going to manage them. He can't carry him, not without being conspicuous. Whoever drugged Liam is probably waiting to see what happens, how many people are with him. 

He thinks about it for a moment, then says to Liam, "Just do your best to climb the stairs, okay? I'm right behind you. I've got you."

Liam nods.

"Okay. Here we go." He sets a hand on Liam's waist, under his shirt, begins leeching the pain out as Liam takes the first few staggering steps upwards. Mason's unlocking the door at the top of the steps. 

When they're finally at the top and inside, Mason shuts the door behind them and locks it, tucking the key in his pocket. Brett tries leaning Liam against the wall, but he slides against the tile.

"Whoa," he says, hurrying to hold Liam upright. "Steady."

"Maybe you could put him on the counter?" Mason asks. "He could lean back against the wall."

Brett nods, hoists Liam up onto the counter and supports the back of his neck when Liam makes to lift his head. He meets Brett's eyes, his own dazed and foggy. His pupils are blown wide, almost obscuring the blue of his eyes.

"Liam?" Mason asks. Liam blinks at Mason. "Hey, dude," Mason murmurs, putting a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Do you know where you are?"

Liam lifts a hand and rubs at his eyes, listing to the side. Brett props him up again, trying to ignore the growl of his wolf at Mason's hand on Liam's shoulder, the way his scent is rubbing off onto Liam's clothes.

"Liam?" Mason prompts. "Do you know where you are?"

"No," Liam mumbles.

"Are you hurt?" Brett crowds in, standing between Liam's legs. 

Liam doesn't answer, just lets his head thump forward onto Brett's shoulder. Mason stares at him. "Maybe you should check," he says.

Brett's already sniffing, trying to scent out anything different. He catches the scent of Liam himself, of smoke, of the dozens of people he's brushed against. He catches himself, faintly, in there as well. After that, more scents begin to surface; the pungent odour of pain, confusion, and fear. 

"Anything?" Mason presses.

"Give me a minute," Brett says tersely. He can't smell blood. "He's not bleeding," he says. "Not hurt physically."

He keeps trying, searching as deep as he can, trying to attach meanings to the different things he's never smelled on Liam before. Very faintly, he picks up on a quiet sense of being comforted.

"He knows we're here," Brett murmurs, deciding that keeping Mason updated might keep him complacent. "That he's safe with us."

Mason looks relieved at that.

There it is. Brett finally catches a faint, oily, decaying smell. There's wood in there too, and Brett searches his memory desperately, trying to attach meaning to the familiarity of it.

Liam shivers weakly against him, moaning low in his throat. Brett puts his hand back on Liam's neck, attempting to leech more of the pain out of him. What would be causing him pain? What kind of poison?

"Mountain ash," he says. "Mason, we need to make him sick."

"What?" Mason asks. "He's already sick-"

"We need to make him throw up," Brett says shortly, hauling Liam off the counter and putting him on his knees in front of the toilet. Liam leans listlessly against the bowl, and Brett catches sight of the beads of sweat making their way down Liam's face. 

"What is it?" Mason asks, kneeling down next to them.

"Mountain ash," Brett repeats. "It's poisonous to anything supernatural, but particularly us. It can used to make barriers but - well, it can be used like this too."

"So we need to make him puke?" Mason asks. "How?"

"I was kind of hoping he'd do it on his own, but-" Brett searches Liam's face helplessly, the closed eyes, the flushed cheeks. There's nothing about him, outwardly or scent-wise, to suggest that Liam needs to throw up. "I don't think he's going to do it on his own," Brett says. "We're gonna have to make him." 

"How?" Mason demands. "Just stick our fingers down his throat and hope to hell that he pukes?"

"That's a good idea," Brett says.

He tilts Liam's head back, steels himself for what he's about to do, and says to Mason, "you might wanna move out of range."

He gives Mason a moment to move to where he won't get hit, takes a breath, and slips his fingers into Liam's mouth, past his teeth, to the back of his throat.

Brett really did not want to make Liam gag like this. He had something else in mind. Liam's unresponsive when Brett rubs the back of his throat - good gag reflex or the poison's shutting his reflexes down, Brett isn't sure - so he pushes a bit further, swallowing. 

Liam lurches, and Brett yanks his hand out of Liam's mouth just in time to get him over the toilet bowl. He tries not to listen to Liam vomiting, but werewolves have good hearing and he's been tuned into the disconcerting, irregular pound of Liam's heart since he first heard it. 

"What the hell is that?" Mason asks shakily.

Brett looks in the toilet bowl, sees it splattered with black gunk. "That's what mountain ash does to us," he says, trying to hide how shaken he is. "Hopefully we got to it before most of it gets into his bloodstream."

"Being a werewolf seems dangerous," Mason says faintly.

"You're safer being human," Brett agrees dryly.

Liam moans, tries to sit up straighter.

"Hey, relax," Brett says. "You're fine."

He doesn't even know if that's true, but Liam relaxes anyway. Brett wonders where Liam's alpha is - he should've sensed Liam's distress the moment it started, but he's still not here and Brett doesn't even know if he's going to show. "Scott should be here," he tells Mason angrily. "That's the reason Liam keeps getting hurt, because Scott isn't paying attention."

"They're sort of distracted," Mason says. "With the Dread Doctors, that is."

Brett shakes his head, rubbing Liam's back. The kid is silent, head down, eyes shut, panting softly. Brett's wolf recoils at the idea of hurting him more, but he knows Liam has to get all that shit out of him, or he's done. 

"Sorry, Liam," he murmurs, putting his fingers back in Liam's mouth. Liam fights him this time, albeit weakly, grabbing Brett's wrist and struggling feebly against his hold. 

"I'm trying to help," Brett says helplessly. "I'm sorry, Liam. I am."

Fuck. He really doesn't want a witness to his panic, to how much he resents having to do this. He doesn't want Mason - anyone - to see that he actually does care about this hot-headed, awkward little dork. 

Liam retches again, more violently this time, his hands gripping the porcelain of the bowl so hard Brett wouldn't be surprised if it splintered under his hold. 

This round of retching is, by far, the worst; it gets its grip on Liam and refuses to let go, keeps him bent painfully over and gasping for breath between bouts. After a while, after nothing more is coming up, Liam presses his forehead against the tiles of the sink.

Brett pulls his keys out of his pocket and throws them to Mason. "Blue Toyota," he says. "Bring it round the back. I'll clean him up and bring him down."

Mason steps forward to stroke Liam's shoulder. "See you soon, bro," he murmurs. Then, to Brett, "There's a back entrance - just out the door and to the right." With that, he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Brett shuffles forward, wrapping his arms around Liam's shoulders and pulling him in close. He's been aching to do it all night, but now that he doesn't have an audience, he's not worried about it. "Hey," he says. "Liam, you alright?"

"God," Liam moans, and his voice breaks. "It fucking hurts."

He's speaking in full sentences again, which Brett supposes is a positive sign, but the crackling in his voice gives away the pain he's still feeling. Something about it has Brett's muscles feeling tense and tightly wound, his breathing off. He's nervous. "I'm gonna get you out of here," he rambles. "Okay? You're gonna be fine. I've got you."

Liam's resting his forehead on Brett's collarbone, and he can still feel the heat radiating off the kid, heavy and sickly. "Can you stand up?" he asks.

Liam nods weakly.

"Okay. Alright." He stands up, gets his hands under Liam's arms, and pulls him upright gently. "Have some water," he murmurs. "Then we're going."

Liam leans over to stick his mouth under the tap, rinsing it, then taking a few gulps of the water. He stays there for a moment, breathing heavily, labored, like the effort of standing has cost him whatever energy he had left. Brett has his hands on Liam's waist, steadying him.

He knows Mason's probably waiting, but he can't bring himself to make Liam move, not when he's this weak and scared. 

"Okay," Liam croaks. "I'm okay."

Brett backs up far enough to let Liam stand, but doesn't venture far. A good thing, too, seeing as he wobbles where he is and would've fallen down if it hadn't been for Brett.

"Let me do the work," Brett says. "Try to focus on healing if you can. I think we got most of it out of you, but the faster you can heal, the better."

Liam nods tiredly, and Brett begins helping him out of the bathroom. He finds the emergency exit and shoulders it open, supporting Liam with his other side.

"Can you do the stairs?" Brett asks.

Liam looks at them with trepidation. "I dunno," he answers honestly. "Yeah. I can try."

He makes it down three before his knees buckle, but when Brett makes to carry him, Liam pulls away. "I'm fine," he snaps, but his voice cracks like a whip again. Brett feels a brief flare of anger at Liam's stubbornness, then tries to reign it back, reminding himself that he's snappy when he's scared and cornered too. 

"Just let me help you, okay?" he says. "I promise to never bring it up again if it makes you feel better."

Liam regards him warily, but the effect is lost with the way he's got a white-knuckled grip on the stair railing and the sweat that's dripping down his face. He's still shivering.

"Fine," he says shortly.

Brett rolls his eyes as he pulls Liam's arm around his shoulders and then scoops him up gracelessly. He's not too concerned with being gentle until Liam bites back a pained noise in his throat, his free arm circling his stomach.

Brett feels guilty instantly. "Look," he says as he descends the stairs, "it's fine. You're sick. You don't need to be embarrassed."

Liam, much to Brett's relief, doesn't argue back. 

He carries Liam down the stairs and only sets him down when he reaches the car, which is idling in the parking lot. Mason leans around to look at them; Liam leans against the car as Brett opens the door. 

"You okay, Li?" Mason asks, craning his neck back.

"Been better," Liam says shakily. He looks like he might be losing it a bit again, so Brett picks up the pace.

He slides into the back seat, helping Liam inside, then leans across the pull the door shut. Liam looks at him, groggy and out of it. He still doesn't seem fully coherent. 

"Where are we going?" Mason asks.

"Liam's," Brett says, before Liam can answer. 

Liam rests on the way. He doesn't sleep - Mason must think he is, because he turns the radio off and stays silent - but Brett, listening in on Liam's heartbeat and monitoring his emotional state, knows that Liam's still disoriented, confused, and sick. He's healing, but slowly. He's got his head in Brett's lap, his arms wrapped around his torso. He's shivering feebly.

"Mason," Brett murmurs, "can you turn the heat up?" 

Mason nods, reaches over, and dials up the thermostat. It warms up almost instantly, and Liam's shaking eases slightly. Brett notices a black spot on his cheek, leftover from the bathroom, and uses the corner of his shirt to wipe it away. 

When they pull up at Liam's, the only car Brett can see is Mason's. "Where're his parents?" he murmurs.

"Away," Mason says. "His step-dad got some time off and his mom really needed a holiday. I just parked here, then we took a cab."

Brett nods.

"I just need a moment to call my mom," Mason says. "Let her know I'm staying."

"You have school tomorrow," Brett says. 

"Yeah, but he's my best friend," Mason says.

"'M okay, Mase," Liam slurs quietly.

Brett shakes his head. "I'll stay," he says. "Make sure he's okay." 

Mason helps him get Liam upstairs, stays and talks to him while Brett rushes back down to his car to get some things. When they've gotten Liam settled, Brett takes Mason's arm and leads him to just outside his bedroom door, where they can still see Liam.

"Did you see him with anyone?" Brett whispers. He doesn't want Liam to overhear them, even if he seems like he's passed out cold.

Mason shakes his head. "He was fine, man," he says. "Bit grumpy, but that's pretty normal. I held his drink when he went to the bathroom. The next time I saw him he was a bit funny but he told me he was alright, just that his head sort of hurt."

"How long was he in the bathroom?"

"A few minutes." Mason looks guilty. "I should've gone with him," he murmurs. "He wouldn't be like this if I had."

Brett shakes his head. "I don't know what it was," he says. "It was mountain ash, but I don't know how it got into him - I thought maybe his drink, but you said you had it. So it would've had to have been spiked before he left it with you. I can't think of how someone would get him to take a pill. He's not into drugs, right?"

Mason looks at him disbelievingly. "He doesn't drink even though he can't get drunk," he says. "He'd never take a pill someone else gave him."

Brett shakes his head. "It's gotta be the drink, then, right?" he asks. "Because if someone had held him down and forced him to swallow it or injected him with it he'd remember, and he would've smelled the mountain ash right away if it had been used as a gas."

"What if he was forced and he just doesn't remember?" Mason asks. "Is that possible?"

Brett thinks about that, long and hard. "I don't know of any drug that could do it," he says. "I'll have to ask Satomi or Scott."

"What're you talking about?"

Liam's voice is so quiet, so slurred, that Brett almost doesn't understand him. They both turn towards him at the same moment, finding Liam watching them with his eyes forced halfway open. His irises are glowing a faint, faint yellow, stuck halfway between his shifted colour and the normal soft blue.

"Is that normal?" Mason asks Brett softly.

"Yeah." Brett heads back to Liam, crouches in front of him. Liam's eyes track him sluggishly. 

"Hey," Brett murmurs. "You in pain?"

Mason joins him, also kneeling, and Liam tracks him too. "Uh-uh," Liam mumbles. "Hot."

Brett puts a hand out, hesitant, giving Liam a chance - even with his delayed reflexes - to show he doesn't want to be touched, but he doesn't move. With the go-ahead from Mason, Brett puts a hand on Liam's bare forearm.

There's no pain. His heartbeat is up but that's nothing Brett didn't already know. 

When he pulls away, Mason puts his hand on Liam's forehead. "He's pretty warm."

Brett frowns, watching as Liam tips his head groggily into Mason's palm. He doesn't say it aloud, but the only thing he knows of to cause a high temperature in werewolves is wolfsbane. Is it possible Liam got a dose of both that and mountain ash? 

He'll tell Mason later. For now, he decides to see if Liam can remember anything.

"Hey," he says, settling so he's a bit more comfortable. "I know you're tired, but do you remember anything?"

Liam blinks lethargically. He makes a move to shift onto his back, must think better of it, and stays where he is. "I went to the bathroom."

Mason looks at Brett hopefully. 

"Yeah?" Brett prompts, trying to be gentle but firm. "What else?" 

"What else what?" Liam mumbles.

"Was there anyone else in there, Li?" Mason questions.

"Yeah." 

That makes Brett's lungs jolt for air, and Liam pins him with a hazy, accusatory look. "You're scared," he says.

"I'm just worried," Brett lies, trying to save face in front of Mason. 

"Mm." Liam's eyes are drooping.

"Liam," he presses, hopes that Liam can hear the urgency in his voice, smell it on him. "Who else was in the bathroom?"

"A guy."

Brett barely suppresses an exasperated groan. _Of course there was a guy in the bathroom, Liam,_ he thinks snarkily. _It was the fucking men's room._

"What'd he look like?"

For the first time since they got out of the car, Liam begins to look troubled. "Um..." His eyes drift, vacant, lost in a memory he can't quite recall properly. "I don't remember," he admits finally. "Sorry, Brett."

_He's fading pretty fast,_ Brett realises. He gives Liam's arm a pat and stands up, waiting for Mason to join him.

"We aren't gonna find out tonight," he sighs to Mason. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Mason nods. "Right. Are you... gonna stay? He shouldn't be alone."

"I won't leave him," Brett promises.

Mason gives him this look like he can see right through the blasé tone Brett is using. "Right. Well, I'm gonna go, then. Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's all good."

He watches Mason say goodbye to Liam, running a hand down his bicep in a surprisingly gentle way Brett knows he wouldn't do if he thought Liam was lucid enough to be embarrassed about it. He sees Mason out - promises five times to keep him updated - and heads back upstairs.

Brett listens to the silence of Liam's house. He's been here before, but not under these circumstances. He feels awkward, hopes Liam can't tell.

He sits on the edge of the bed, where Liam is curled with his head nearly hanging off it. He rubs Liam's hair gently, grimacing at the sticky sweat that has it matted to his skull.

"You should shower," Brett says awkwardly.

Liam cracks his eyes open exhaustedly. "Tired," he whines.

"Just a quick one. You'll feel better." 

Liam's slow to move, like he can't tell his arms from his legs, but he eventually gets up, wobbly like a newborn foal. Brett's surprised he can even stand. 

Liam insists he's fine to stand in the shower, and when Brett hears it shut off, he stands expectantly, flipping Liam's covers back. He doesn't know why he feels so weird about Liam being half-naked in the next room over; it's nothing he hasn't seen (or touched) before.

When Liam still doesn't exit, and Brett notices his heartbeat slowing, he opens the bathroom door. Liam's sitting on the toilet seat, dozing off against the wall, wearing only boxers.

"Liam," Brett says. "Hey. You can't sleep here."

Liam blinks at him sleepily. 

"Here." Brett ignores the squirming, uncomfortable feeling in his gut, the one telling him he's way, way out of his comfort zone, and picks up the shirt Liam brought with him to change into. He notices, right away, that it smells of him, realises it's the one he gave Liam to wear after someone spilled their drink on him at the club.

He helps Liam into the shirt and then back to the bed, pulling the covers up over him. "Let's just - just rest, okay?" He's trying to hide how shaken he is, don't know if Liam's capable of noticing in this state. He's almost completely unresponsive, lax against the sheets, letting Brett manhandle him.

Brett swallows. If anyone had gotten to Liam before he and Mason did... before Liam managed to seek him out...

"You're fucking fifteen," Brett says, "why the fuck isn't your alpha watching you? Helping you? Doing _something_?"

Liam sought him out. Brett knows that. Tracked him by scent and found him in Sinema with the last of his strength, looking for protection, for safety. Brett's gut twists again. Why him? Why not Mason?

"Go to sleep," he says.

Liam makes a noise of disagreement.

"Liam," Brett pleads, because hey, it's been a long night for him too, even if it hasn't been as awful as Liam's. "Please go to sleep, alright? I'm not leaving you. I just want you to rest."

_He's fifteen_ , Brett thinks, slightly hysterically. _Fuck. Fucking fuck. He's fifteen, he's a kid, what the hell were you fucking thinking, Talbot, that you could have sex with him and scent mark him and nothing bad would happen_ -  


"Stay," Liam mumbles.

Oh, hell. He's done. He's fucked. He is so, so boned.

He sits on the bed, watching and listening as Liam's breathing slows down and evens out until Brett knows, without a doubt, that he's completely under. He picks up his phone.

**To** : Mason Hewitt, 11:39PM  
He's asleep

He doesn't think he needs to add anymore than that, strips his jeans off, and lies down on the other side of Liam's bed. Is it really only eleven thirty? He wonders hazily. It feels much later, like he's been up for hours and it's close to morning. 

He watches Liam's sides rise and fall with his breathing, noses into his covers a little deeper, inhales the scent that's inherently Liam, untainted with mountain ash. It's comforting, almost as much as the scent of his own pack.

His phone lights up.

**From** : Mason Hewitt, 11:43PM  
Take care of him.

Brett doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. Also doesn't know how to without completely giving himself away - giving away how he really feels about Liam. 

He fists his hair, frustrated. It was meant to be one fun handjob and now he's sleeping in the kid's bed to make sure he doesn't choke on his own puke and die, or get poisoned again, or hell, just _stop breathing_. And he doesn't even know _why_. He can't pinpoint any time that Liam got under his skin to the extent that Brett actually gave this much of a damn about his wellbeing.

Liam sleeps deeply, unnaturally so, for the first half of the night. Brett drifts in and out uneasily, disturbed by every movement Liam makes, thinking he's going to get sick or fall out of bed or, God, start crying or something. If he starts crying, Brett's out. He'll call Mason and get him to come back. Brett doesn't deal well with crying. 

He thinks about rolling closer to Liam, maybe shifting him closer to the middle of the bed so he at least doesn't have to worry about Liam rolling out of bed and hitting his head on his bedside table, but Liam whines grievously when Brett touches his shoulder and side, giving a shudder. When Brett feels the temperature of his skin, he can't honestly say he blames Liam for not wanting to be touched. He's burning up, but not sweating. 

He wants to touch, though. He thinks maybe they'd both rest easier if Liam would let Brett press up along his back, put an arm over him, bracket him safely in the middle of the bed where he won't accidentally hurt himself. 

None of this ends up mattering, of course. Because if Brett's worried about Liam's unnatural stillness for the first half of the night, the second half of the night - the half Liam spends violently shaking, thrashing against the sheets, slipping in and out of consciousness - has Brett's stomach twisted into the most violent, painful knots of his life.

Brett has to figure out who did this. He's going to. He's going to scent the motherfucker down and rip his throat out. Well, only if he doesn't get caught by Satomi. But he's going to fucking try. Who poisons a fifteen year old? Even if they are a werewolf? Liam's eyes are yellow, the telltale sign of a beta who's never taken the life of an innocent.

"Brett," Liam moans. His hands are scrabbling across the mattress, looking for something to hold onto. 

"I'm here, Liam," he says, trying to put a lid on the anger until Liam is at least coherent enough to know it's not directed at him.

Liam's grasping fingers finally find his chest, and he curls up close. "Sorry," he mumbles. 

"For what?" Brett asks, but Liam doesn't answer. He's still now, save for the shaking.

Brett lies awake and seethes for a good hour and a half before he finally allows sleep to claim him.


	3. Three - Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter yay! They're getting steadily longer. Thanks to everyone who read/commented/kudo'd/bookmarked! This chapter and the next are a little lighter (can't be angst all the time). Special thanks to ghost for giving me the idea for the flashback scene at the start of this chapter!  
> Enjoy <3

**Chapter Three - Invitation**

He's so furious about Liam getting drugged and nearly killed while his alpha is off - what? Picking flowers? Attempting peaceful negotiations with homicidal maniacs? That he ends up going to Satomi with his concerns.

She listens, nods along, takes it all in. Then, finally, when Brett's done, pacing up and down in front of her, she says, "Scott is an alpha, Brett, that's true. But he's also a young alpha. He's seventeen, remember. The same age as you."

Brett bristles. "He's going to lose his whole pack," he argues. "He's hopeless. Liam wanders in and out of Sinema all hours of the night - he's _fifteen_ , Satomi! And he does it smelling like another wolf - like me! And Scott either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. What sort of an alpha does that?"

"A distracted one." Satomi's smiling at him, which Brett just finds infuriating at this point. 

"Scott's going to get them killed," he fumes. "All of them. Liam can barely control his shift. He still loses control when he's emotional. And Scott doesn't care."

"Brett," she says warningly, and Brett shuts his mouth. "Scott is doing the best he can," she admonishes him. "He's saved all of us many times. We owe him our lives. I understand your frustration, but express it respectfully."

"He really doesn't seem to care," Brett says, flustered and unsure of why it matters so much.

"You care, though," she notes.

"No I don't," he grumbles, even though he doesn't know why he's even bothering to pretend. "I really don't."

"Then why exactly does Liam, in your own words, wander around smelling like a wolf other than one from his pack - why is that wolf you? I can smell him on you too, as well, Brett. He must mean something to you."

Brett crosses his arms over his chest. "Just because I don't want him to die doesn't mean he means anything," he says, even though his heart stutters over that last bit because, well, Liam means something. He's not sure what, exactly, but he does. 

"He wouldn't have died," Satomi says.

Brett stands up straight. "What do you mean?"

"You said you thought he was poisoned with both mountain ash and wolfsbane, correct?" she asks.

Brett nods.

"Those poisons, in even a fraction of a dosage too high, are fatal," she says. "Whoever slipped him the poison likely knew exactly how much to give him to make him violently ill, but not kill him. This sounds like it was aimed at Scott, not Liam."

"Why at Scott?"

"A warning, possibly. Or perhaps even a test, to see if he's protecting his pack, to see if there are weak links."

"Okay, well, what about him not remembering?" Brett asks. "He remembers going into the bathroom and that someone was in there, but not enough to identify anyone."

Satomi shakes her head. "That I'm not sure of, Brett," she says softly. "If we had a sample of the poisons used, we could consult Alan Deaton, but without them, we have nothing. How is Liam, now?"

"He's with Mason. He's okay. A little groggy still, but he's not sick anymore."

"Your poisoner knew what they were doing," Satomi remarks. "That itself is dangerous. Knowledge is the first step towards intent."

Brett loves Satomi, respects her deeply, but it's way too early for the Buddha crap she's spouting and he's running on exactly one hour's sleep, only obtained when Liam finally settled in the early hours of the morning. He's not in the mood.

If Brett had known that dancing with Liam that night at Sinema would lead to anything more than shared orgasms, he would've walked away and found a different person to get heavy-handed with. But here he is, and he kind of likes Liam. Not enough to want to hold hands and shit, but it'll get there if he's not fucking careful. 

Brett sighs. It had to be Liam, didn't it? Out of everyone he could've decided to sort of maybe like, it had to be fucking Liam Dunbar. 

~*~

_Brett feels like little more than a wisp of smoke when he wakes the next morning, alerted to a new day by the sun shining rudely through Liam's curtains._

_He staggers upright, checks Liam's pulse briefly, finds it slow and steady. He's in the shower and under the hot spray before he even really thinks that this is Liam's shower and maybe he should go home for that but honestly, he's covered in Sinema's chemical grime and the grit of a bad night's rest and just wants to feel semi-human again._

_He makes breakfast, dresses, and walks back upstairs. Liam is lying on his front, arms up on either side of his head, dead asleep._

_"Liam. Hey."_

_Brett's been up and showered for a while now, and he's leaning over Liam's body, curled beneath his duvet, trying to wake him. He was going to wait for Liam to wake on his own, to be fair, but he's impatient with lack of sleep and also still low-key worried that the poisons have done permanent damage._

_"Liam," he coaxes. "Come on."_

_Liam stirs faintly._

_"Hey," Brett says softly. "Are you awake?"_

_"Hmm," Liam mumbles. "Sort of."_

_"How're you feeling?"_

_"Tired."_

_Brett nods. "Hungry? I can bring you something." He waits for a reply, and it takes a moment to come; Liam, shaking his head minutely._

_"Still sick, huh?"_

_A faint nod._

_"Can you open your eyes? Just for a second."_

_Liam blinks at him sleepily, letting Brett see his all-human, blue eyes, clouded with sleep. Brett almost sighs, he's so relieved. No yellow is a good sign._

_Liam flushes, and Brett's about to ask what's wrong when Liam mumbles, "you stayed?"_

_"Yeah." He watches Liam shift onto his side, worried at how long it takes._

_"Where did you sleep?" Liam says, and his voice is still slurring a little. With the residual effects of the poison or just sleepiness, Brett doesn't know._

_"In here," he says, watching as Liam makes a pitiful attempt at hauling himself up on his elbows. "Hey," he says, putting his hands on Liam's shoulders and coaxing him back down. "Don't get up, okay? Just go back to sleep for a bit."_

_He doesn't stay for long. He sits on the bed, reads one of Liam's books while reclining next to him on the bed, letting him sleep, until Mason arrives, toting an armful of textbooks on the supernatural and a laptop._

_"How is he?" Mason asks._

_"In and out. Just tired, though. He's not sick or anything anymore."_

_Mason reaches down and brushes Liam's shoulder affectionately. Brett wishes he could swing that kind of casual affection, but he can't, not without knowing where his feelings really lie concerning Liam. He knows his chest has been hurting him all night with the knowledge that Liam's suffering, and he knows that he wants to kill whoever did this, but other than that, everything is pretty unclear._

_"I'm gonna get going," he says, standing up. "Call if anything happens?"_

_"You know it," Mason says._

~*~

He hasn't seen Liam since then, and it's been almost a week. So today, instead of going to school, he's staking out Beacon Hills, waiting for lacrosse practice to finish so he can talk to Liam in the locker room - maybe offer him a ride home or something. 

And then maybe they can continue having fun and having orgasms. Maybe. If Liam's down for that. He can't imagine why he wouldn't be, but-

He sees the lacrosse team heading into the locker rooms and makes his move, exiting his car and pressing the lock button on his keys. He catches Liam's scent almost immediately, tracks him down to the middle of the room.

Liam looks kind of startled to see him. "Hi," he says.

"Hey." Brett leans against the lockers, smirking as Liam strips off his sweaty shirt and dumps it on the bench next to his bag. He's enjoying watching Liam use the age-old and useless trick of trying to appear busy to avoid conversation. "You're extra skittish today," he comments, taking pleasure in the blush that rises up from Liam's neck to his cheeks. "What's going on?"

"Nothin'." Liam looks up at him. "Why're you here?" he asks. "Are you looking for Scott? He's with Coach."

Brett laughs. "I'm not looking for Scott."

Liam pegs him with this look, like he's not really fond of this game Brett's playing, and continues to rifle through his bag. "I have to shower," he says. "You couldn't have waited outside?"

Brett can't really quite pin the tone of Liam's voice - he's not irritated, but he's also not joking around, so he just shrugs and says, "Do you care?"

Liam's gaze shifts, and Brett suddenly catches wind of his scent changing - the way irritation surges behind a buoy of anxiety and nerves. His heart plummets. Liam's backing away from him like - like he's afraid. Brett never wanted him to be afraid; it's fun to play but it's not fun to hurt people, and fuck, did he scare Liam?

"Hey."

Brett grabs Liam's arm as he moves to walk away. Liam turns back to him, barely letting his eyes scrape Brett's. He's nibbling on his lower lip, and Brett resists the urge to kiss away the marks he's leaving. 

Brett blinks. "Did I - did I force you into it?" he breathes, because Liam seemed kind of out of it at Sinema, like maybe he didn't know where he was - or what to do. The second time he definitely was, but the first time - when they went into the back room - he was... pliant, but does that mean he was willing? Maybe Liam was seeking out someone familiar and Brett took advantage of that. Maybe Liam didn't want _any_ of it and just didn't know how to say no-

"What?" Liam asks. Something about his scent has changed, and he seems slightly calmer, able to meet Brett's eyes for a whole two seconds before they skirt around his shoulder again.

"Did I force you into it? Liam, I didn't-"

He's alarmed to hear Liam's heartbeat ratchet up a notch, the stench of his nerves thickening the air considerably. He's about to keep rambling when he realises Liam's not even looking at him anymore, he's looking somewhere over Brett's shoulder.

Brett twists his neck to look behind him. One of the seniors on Liam's team is smirking at him across the locker room. 

"Sorry," Liam says, forcing his eyes back to Brett. "Sorry. I zoned out." He motions for the door. "You wanna get out of here?" he asks nervously. "We could go somewhere else to talk."

"Is he bothering you?" Brett demands. 

"Not - not really." Liam's heartbeat stutters over the lie. 

"What's going on?" Brett pushes.

"Look, he's just - he saw me at Sinema the other night and now he won't leave me alone, okay?" Liam snaps. "It's not a big deal. Scott and Stiles have already threatened him-"

"Well, it doesn't look like it worked," Brett says.

"I know that too," Liam snaps. "Anyway, he's just been sort of - relentless since then. I've tried everything but he won't back off. I'm not worried or anything-" his heart stammers over that, another lie - "it's just kind of annoying." That part, at least, is true.

"How old is he?" Brett demands. He looks too old to be a senior. 

"Nineteen," Liam says. "He got kept back a year and he thinks because he's older than us that he's hot shit. He's not scared of Scott or Stiles. I mean no one is scared of Stiles but-"

"Why doesn't Scott go alpha on him?" Brett asks, irritated.

Liam gives him this look, like he's from another planet and he's seriously reconsidering every interaction they've had. "He's not - not _like_ us," Liam hisses. "Scott can't just go around growling at any person who looks twice at me."

Brett turns to look back at the guy. "Wait here."

"Brett!" Liam hisses, "don't-"

He'll confront it calmly, like Satomi taught him. Keep his head screwed on, not get bad. He'll deal with it like an adult. Like-

"So," he says conversationally, leaning on the locker next to the guy, "I saw you watching my buddy over there."

" _Oh, for fuck's sake._ " Liam says it so quietly Brett only picks it up using his wolf-hearing, but he can hear the disbelief there. And maybe some gratitude too.

"It's not every day you see a freshman in Sinema," Liam's stalker responds, grinning. "Just makes it convenient that I'm on the same team as him."

Brett's wolf is clawing at the cage of his ribs; Liam is looking at him in alarm. "You know he's fifteen, right?" Brett asks.

"So? He's almost sixteen."

"He's underage." He hears Liam snort, and his inner monologue says, _yeah, you're one to talk, Talbot. You've been imagining all the ways he might let you fuck him since you last saw him in Sinema,_ but Brett's seventeen, not nineteen, he's not an adult, he's not a predator-

"Doesn't look it." The guy shrugs. "Nobody's gonna notice."

"The school administration will," Brett says smoothly. "And so will the town Sheriff. You know, Stilinski's dad?"

He's succeeded in at least making the guy look nervous. "He's sixteen soon anyway. What's your problem anyway, man? You aren't even from this school."

"My problem is you bullying some sophomore kid around because you think you'll get away with it," Brett says heatedly. 

"Hey!"

Fucking Stilinski. Brett remembers being on the receiving end of his constant babble, when he got off the bus and threatened Liam. He's doing the same thing now, ranting unrepentantly at the senior.

"Listen, guys, I don't really think this is something we need to be fighting over right here - what's a little competition, am I right?" He laughs nervously. "But Justin, just so you know, this here child-" He drags Liam close - "Is like a little brother to me."

"You don't even _like_ me," Liam splutters in disbelief.

"I do like you, Liam, okay? I'm ruthlessly sarcastic to everyone I like. As I was saying, my dad wouldn't be happy... if he were to find performance enhancers in the school locker room."

Justin snorts. "I don't take performance enhancers."

"That doesn't mean my dad wouldn't find any," Stiles says flatly. "If he were to look in a particular spot... In a particular locker."

Brett sort of likes Stiles now. He's got balls for some skinny pale kid. 

"Are we settled?" Stiles asks brightly. "Okay? Okay! Nice having this chat." And with that, he steers Liam towards the showers, leaving Brett and Justin standing there.

"I mean it," Brett says. "I'll break your fucking neck if you go near him."

Justin's jaw clenches, but he nods and walks away. Brett's wolf settles with a growl as he walks out of the locker room. 

"Brett!"

He turns to find Liam jogging after him, looking anxious. His hair's wet, and his t-shirt is damp in the spots he hasn't dried off from what must have been the briefest and most useless shower he's ever had. 

"Yeah?"

"You didn't force me." The words come out in a rush; Liam's looking up at him earnestly. "I wanted to." 

Brett turns to face him properly. "You wanted to?" he asks carefully. "Are you sure? Because thinking back on it, Liam, it didn't seem like you were so sure." They haven't even talked about Brett crawling into bed with Liam when he was sick, staying the night, nursing him the next morning - because Liam isn't someone who needs taking care of and Brett isn't someone who's very good at the bedside manner stuff. 

"I was more sure than I was not-sure," Liam argues, and Brett scoffs lightly, because that sentence was fairly typically Liam. "I'm serious," Liam argues. "I just - I'm not good at this, okay?" His voice trails into a mumble; he looks down at his shoes, trying to hide his face.

Brett looks around; there's no one in the hallway. "Hey," he says. "It's okay. You want a ride home? We can talk about it in the car if you want."

Liam nods and falls into step beside him. The moment he's in the car, he turns to face Brett, his face still furiously red.

"I've never done this before," he says. "That's why I'm not good at it, okay? You can't just - just start eye-fucking me at Sinema and expect me to know what to do, 'cause I don't."

"You seem pretty good at it so far," Brett says, remembering the noises he makes.

"I'm winging it!" Liam snaps. 

Brett can't help it; he laughs. "Hey," he says. "Do you want to keep doing this?"

Liam nods slowly, his eyes focused on Brett's lips.

"Okay," Brett says. "Look, I'll lead the way. You just tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, alright? You'll learn the ropes eventually."

Liam looks over at him, seeming a little annoyed. "The only way I know it isn't just about getting off is because Malia basically cornered me after the we left the locker room and demanded to know who I was screwing, because their scent is _all over me_ ," he says pointedly. "She said I smell like I've been spending all my time rolling around in another werewolf's bed."

Brett decides to play dumb. "Really? Who's scent?"

" _Yours_." Liam is bristling. "Have you been scent marking me for almost two weeks and not even telling me?"

Brett shrugs. "Yep." He's not sorry. He's so unapologetic he can't even fake it. 

Liam huffs and sits back in his seat, arm up on the edge of the window. "Well at least I know you like me now," he grumbles.

"How do you know that?" Brett asks, amused. "Was it because I got you off at Sinema, or because I almost killed that freak in the locker room?" _Or because I carried you into that bathroom, shoved my fingers down your throat to make sure you'd puke? Was it carrying you to the car and into your house and fucking spooning you_ -

"I know because Malia _and_ Stiles _and_ Mason all told me that wolves only scent-mark people they care about," Liam snaps. 

_Well_ , Brett thinks. _Game over. You're busted, Talbot._

"Scott didn't tell you?" Brett asks conversationally.

"Nice diversionary tactic." Liam had to have learned that from Stiles, Brett decides. "And no, he didn't. Scott's been kind of busy. I don't think he's noticed."

Brett raises his eyebrow, turning to look at Liam at the next intersection. "You're telling me," he says slowly, "that you're hanging out with your whole pack and your alpha almost twenty four hours a day, smelling like me, like a wolf from another pack, and your alpha _hasn't noticed_?"

"Is that not normal?" Liam asks sheepishly. 

"When I came home from Sinema that first night, Satomi spent half an hour lecturing me about safe sex and mingling with other packs," Brett retorts. "Mainly, how to not get your throat torn out by your partner's alpha. Looks like I don't need to worry, though, if Scott hasn't even noticed."

"Are you angry?" Liam asks, bemused.

"Yes," Brett growls. "I scent marked you for a reason."

Liam blinks. 

"I scent marked you so that other potential partners - at least supernatural ones - would smell me on you and stay away from you," Brett says irritably. "If I'd sent you back smelling like our encounter was casual, it could have triggered any of Scott's alpha instincts, made him think that I'd hurt you. Seeing as scent marking is something werewolves do to show affection-"

"You knew that nobody would tear your throat out?" Liam provides.

"Exactly."

Liam looks a little let down at that. "Oh. Makes sense I guess."

The mood in the car has shifted; Brett pulls up at Liam's house, puts the breaks on, and sighs, turning to him. "Liam," he says softly.

Liam turns to him, and Brett leans forward, kissing him gently. Liam makes a muffled noise of surprise but kisses back, his hand on Brett's face. Brett tries to ignore how good that feels - nice, comforting - as he grips Liam's upper thigh, near his hip.

He pulls away after a moment. "I scent marked you because I wanted you to smell like me," he says softly. "It was more about that than about not getting my throat ripped out. Scott isn't that kind of alpha anyway. I was going to do it either way."

Liam brightens up at that, and Brett feels his chest clench. Liam's so bright in that moment that it almost makes him angry. What fucking right does this kid have to look so-  
"You wanna come in?" Liam asks. "My parents are still away."

Brett sort of hopes, as he follows Liam inside, that there's sex in it for him, but also sort of doesn't care too much, because he still gets to be close, and Liam wasn't angry about Brett scent marking him, he was angry Brett didn't tell him that's what he was doing. And yeah, Satomi had warned him about that.

_"Brett... Liam is a very young werewolf," Satomi admonishes gently. "The youngest in the area. He wasn't born like you. He might not know what you scent-marking him means, if he even knows at all."_

_"It's better safe than sorry, though, right? I couldn't just send him back smelling like - I don't know."_

_"You should ask first," she says, and even though she's stern, she also seems amused. "Think of that next time."_

"So you couldn't smell it?" Brett asks Liam as they head upstairs. 

"Smell - oh, you mean could I smell you on me? Yeah, of course. But I didn't really know what it meant or anything." Liam pushes his bedroom door open, throwing his bag into the corner carelessly.

The room smells overwhelmingly of Liam. Again, the only other scent Brett can pick up is Mason. Scott hasn't been here. Or, if he has, it was so long ago the scent has faded entirely.

_That's irresponsible_ , Brett thinks blankly. _Anyone could think Liam is an omega if they smelled this room. There's no scent of his pack anywhere._

So he sets to work picking up different things, tinkering with them, putting them back. He sits on the bed, leans back on the pillows.

Liam narrows his eyes at him. "I know what you're doing this time around," he says.

"Good," Brett says pleasantly. 

Liam huffs, but Brett gets the impression it's more out of a need to appear annoyed than out of actual annoyance, and he smirks. "You gonna stand there all day?" he asks. 

Liam blushes. "Maybe."

Brett blinks, because what? He sits up. "Nervous?" he asks, genuinely concerned and curious. Liam didn't seem all that nervous to invite him in, didn't seem worried in the car with him. Hell, he was barely this bad at Sinema, and at least that sort of made sense.

Liam shrugs, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe."

"Why?" Brett leans forward and tugs gently on Liam's waist. Liam goes willingly, coming to stand between Brett's legs at the end of the bed. Brett worries at his lip; he thought Liam knew that he was safe, that he wouldn't hurt him. He literally just got through explaining that the scent marking was to keep him safe, for crying out loud.

"I don't think things through _ever_ ," Liam blurts out, "and now I don't know what you think me inviting you in meant and I don't know what it meant either."

That's sort of... Brett refuses to use the word cute, because the moment Liam becomes cute to him is the moment it's all fucking over for him, but it's something along those lines.

"Don't worry," he laughs. "I'll leave it up to you."

Liam nods, then says, "I never thanked you for... helping me at Sinema last week," he says. "For getting me out of there. I don't remember a lot of it but Mason said he found you holding me up in the middle of the floor. You knew what was wrong with me."

Brett shrugs. "It was no big deal," he says.

Liam pulls that same narrow-eyed look as before. "He also said you carried me to the car and held me on the way back," he says pointedly.

Brett swallows. "It's cool," he says, feeling suddenly awkward. "You were sick. I wasn't gonna leave you." 

"You stayed the night," Liam says.

Brett says nothing, so Liam tries again. "Mason offered to stay and you told him you would," he says. "And I know you did because you were there the next morning."

"I didn't think you'd remember," Brett says honestly. "You were fucking out of it."

Liam nods slowly, considering him. "I remember getting sick," he admits. "In the bathroom. I was freaking out but I knew you were there, you know? I was glad you stayed."

Brett is so uncomfortable with this conversation. He doesn't want to have it anymore. He's not sure what Liam thinks this is but it's probably not the same as what Brett thinks and Brett really should have made his mind up about what exactly he wants by now, before seeing Liam again, but he hasn't yet. He knows what he wants but he doesn't know if he's brave enough to go for it.

"I like you better when you're not threatening to break me in half," Liam jokes weakly.

Brett winces, because he did say that, didn't he? He thought it was tough at the time, but Liam's a full foot shorter than him and was so tenuously holding onto control, he wonders if it just made him look like a scared little kid, swinging his fists uselessly. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't really mean it."

Liam snorts. "You did. It's okay though. You don't mean it now."

Liam really does sound like it's okay, his heartbeat doesn't stutter and his eyes don't flick away, so Brett lets it go. He drags Liam onto the bed with him - he knows he said he'd leave it up to him, but he wants to at least get to make out tonight. 

"I like your room," Brett says.

Liam grins. "Your pillow-talk is out of this world, Talbot."


	4. Four - Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be shameless smut. Kind of a shorter chapter, but the next two are quite long! Oh, there was a whole chunk of dialogue in the last chapter that went missing, I went back and fixed it. Thanks to everyone for continuing to tune in and read/comment/kudo/bookmark! Hope you all enjoy ^_^

**Chapter Four - Heat**  
Brett wakes up to Liam muttering.

He blinks his eyes open, knows instantly that it's a few hours later, because the light is different and he's got that groggy, half-rested feeling he always gets from a nap. Liam's back is pressed against his, an ankle twisted up in between Brett's. 

Brett turns over, slowly, trying not to disturb Liam. His baseball tee - the white one with black sleeves - has ridden up, showing off a sliver of pale gold skin the width of Brett's hand. The waistband of Liam's boxers are poking out over his jeans. 

Brett smiles, puts his hand there, rubs the skin softly. Liam barely stirs at all. He must be exhausted. Brett wonders if he's still having nightmares about the Berserkers. He wouldn't blame him; he does, sometimes, too. 

"Hey," he says. "Wake up."

Liam grumbles at him.

Brett likes the guy, but he's not about to let him sleep; his parents still aren't home and he's got plans for the semi Liam's nursing. Mostly his mouth, tasting him. But he'll have to see how Liam feels about that.

He sighs, then snakes his hand around to palm at Liam through his jeans. That might wake him up.

Liam whines as he opens his eyes. "You're the best but also the worst," he says groggily, pushing up into Brett's hand. "How long have we been asleep?"

"Do you really care?" Brett tightens his grip, feels Liam swell in his hand. He smirks.

Liam wriggles. "Not really," he says faintly. 

Brett leans over him, smirking, leans down to kiss him. Liam pushes up into it desperately, craving contact. Brett thinks he's probably never done anything like this before, and maybe this isn't even the way Liam had envisioned it.

"Like me touching you?" Brett asks.

"That's a stupid question," Liam fires back feebly. He's swelling in Brett's hand rapidly, staring up at him unblinkingly.

Liam surges into his lap when Brett sits up, climbing on with his knees settled on either side of Brett's hips and his hands on his face. He rolls his hips down, breathes heavily onto Brett's parted lips. 

"Have you done this before?" Brett asks breathlessly. Because Liam said awhile ago that he hadn't, but Brett didn't know if that was in reference to the whole two-dicks thing, the Sinema thing or everything. 

Liam pulls back from him, but only for a moment, shakes his head. He rolls his hips again - almost like they have a mind of their own - and grits his jaws against the noise desperate to be let out of the cages of his teeth.

"Any of it?" Brett presses.

Liam jerks back again. "No," he says. "Is that-" He's suddenly self-conscious, tensing his thighs like he's making to get up. "Is that a problem?" he asks nervously.

Brett yanks him back down, uncharacteristically rough. He would've thought Liam would've been with someone by now, but it's not a _problem_. "No," he murmurs. "We'll take it slow." He kind of figured Liam hadn't done anything like this before. The way he reacted the first night to Brett's hand kind of gave him away.

Liam narrows his eyes. "What if I don't want to?" he snaps.

"What if I _do_?" Brett asks lightly.

Liam blinks. Brett doesn't want to take things slow, but he gets the feeling that Liam isn't as gung-ho as he's pretending to be, so if Liam needs to believe that this is for Brett's benefit, so be it. 

He decides to test the waters, just a little, slides his hands back to palm at Liam's ass through his jeans. Liam jumps, letting out a surprised noise.

"That nice?" Brett asks, leaning his forehead comfortably against Liam's collarbone. He's warm, broad-chested and solid beneath Brett's cheek, smells soft, like familiarity, like pack, because Brett's been scent-marking him for a good two weeks now. 

"Um, yeah," Liam says. "I guess. What do you get out of it, though?"

Brett sighs, takes a moment to remind himself that Liam is new to this, new to all of it - the part about Brett also being a guy and the whole intimacy thing in general - and says, "I like touching you, Liam. Any way I can."

"So... you'd be happy just holding my hand, then?"

Brett leans back and squints up at Liam. "You trying to tell me something, Dunbar?" he asks, already pulling his hands away because he wants Liam to call the shots - doesn't want to pressure him, make him uncomfortable.

Liam squirms back into Brett's grasp aggressively - Brett didn't know aggressive squirming could be a thing till now - and says, "No! Just - hypothetically speaking."

Liam's a dork. Brett kind of called it but it still surprises him. "Hypothetically, huh?" he asks casually.

"Yeah, like if that's all - um, ah."

Brett's snaked his hands up Liam's chest, using his thumbs to rub at his nipples through his t-shirt, his hands holding Liam's ribs and chest steady. Liam gnaws on his lower lip, arching up into Brett's touch. "I like that," he says breathlessly.

Brett laughs. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm."

Brett thumbs them lightly, then presses in on them. They've hardened up under his ministrations, and Liam is rocking softly, shallowly, in his lap. His arms go up around Brett's neck.

"Good?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam breathes, and Brett can hear the barely bitten back moan in his voice. 

He pulls away, snakes his hands up under Liam's shirt, counts his ribs on the way up. Liam's trembling, with arousal or anticipation - Brett can certainly smell both - and he outright moans when the skin of Brett's thumbs make direct contact with his nipples.

Brett has an idea. Instead of stripping Liam's shirt, he lifts Liam up gently and sets him against the mattress, on his back, pushes his shirt up under his arms. He uses his thumb and forefinger on both hands to play with the nubs on Liam's chest.

Liam arches into his touch, gasping. Brett watches the muscles of his torso shift beneath his skin, sinewy and laced with power, the way his stomach dips with the movement and highlights the bottom of his rib cage. When he gives the patch of skin above Liam's stomach a little kitten lick - out of curiosity - Liam whines.

Brett loves the sound; loves every reaction he gets out of Liam, the movement, the noises, all of it. He wants to play Liam like he's an instrument, make music out of his voice, his body. He wants to touch everywhere. He can't yet - Liam's still sort of nervous about all this - but God, does Brett want to. Wants to yank his faded blue jeans off, his boxers, nose at the tufts of blonde hair he imagines at the base of Liam's dick, listen to the noises.

He wants to press himself inside, fingers first, one at a time, slow, so that it drives Liam mad with want and pleasure, so he can listen to every little miniature symphony that exits Liam's mouth. He wants to make him come over and over again, then take him slow and deep. He wants his hands gripping the backs of Liam's thighs, pushing them up, pushing them open. He wants to lick his way down and feel Liam squirm and writhe and moan above him. Wants, more than anything, to feel his body respond.

Fuck. He's in so deep. And not even in the way he _wants_ to be, either.

"Brett," Liam moans.

"Hmm?" Brett asks.

"Uh - they're kind of-"

He registers Liam's discomfort suddenly; he's zoned out, but kept tweaking and playing with Liam's nipples. They're a deep, flushed red, and he pulls his hands away. "Sorry," Liam says sheepishly. He tilts his head to look down at Brett - he's red in the face, eyes half mast with arousal, his pupils large and black against the blue backdrop of his irises.

"You're allowed to tell me if something doesn't feel good," he says. _What the fuck, Talbot_ , his inner monologue groans, _this was meant to be a quick way to get orgasms, not all this mushy relationship crap._

He looks down, finds Liam straining against his jeans. "That looks uncomfortable," he comments lightly.

Liam nods, biting his lip.

"Want me to take care of it for you?" Brett asks.

"Um - yes, please."

"You're so _polite_ ," Brett snickers, pushing Liam's shirt back up to admire the planes of his abs, the swift, narrow cut of his hips. Liam leans his head back against the pillows, arching his hips.

Brett grasps them with both hands, digging his thumbs into the dips beside the bone. Liam pushes up again, moaning, but Brett forces him down.

Is Liam testing him, or genuinely trying to get away from him? He's not sure. It's never been this fucking complicated with anyone else, because everyone else has previous experience and, well, isn't fifteen. _Almost sixteen_ , he reminds himself. _He's almost sixteen_.

The thought briefly passes through Brett's head that Liam's underage, even if he looks older, but he shakes it off. Liam turns sixteen soon, he's pretty sure. So they'll just be discreet until then. Big deal. 

He loosens his grip ever-so-slightly, so that he's not holding hard enough to bruise, even if Liam does heal. Liam looks up at him, face flushed, his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

Brett constricts his grip again, watches as the action tightens the grip of Liam's teeth in his flesh, leans down, presses the bulge in his jeans against Liam's. He kisses Liam deeply, rolls against him, then slowly builds the pressure of his thumbs, digging them into the bone.

Liam breaks away from him and moans, pushing up, and, acting on instinct, Brett doubles the force behind his touch, slamming him back against the mattress. The soft "oof" Liam lets out is only partly shock; the other part can't be construed as anything other than arousal, and Brett realises with a thrill that _Liam likes being held down_. He doesn't know why that's so insanely erotic to him - holding someone down during foreplay and sex has never once crossed his mind - but it is. Brett's perfectly happy to pin Liam down whenever he wants and watch him get off on it. 

"I like that too," Liam gasps, surprisingly bold.

"This?" Brett presses his thumbs in again, pushes him down a little more forcefully - not so hard that Liam can't get away if that's what he wants, though - and Liam's dick jumps in his boxers. 

"Yeah," Liam says throatily. "That."

"That I can do more of," Brett smirks, pushing Liam back down into the bed. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

"Uh huh," Liam breathes, tilting his head up for a kiss. When Brett slithers up his body, Liam's legs fall apart of their own accord, no coaxing or touching required.

Brett's never seen anything so sinfully hot in his life, and he rolls his hips against Liam's dick, making him groan and push up, wriggling to try and achieve more friction.

"Relax," Brett orders. "I promised to take care of you, didn't I?"

Liam nods. 

"Tell me to stop if you don't like what I'm doing," Brett murmurs, then reaches down, slowly, tantalisingly. He watches Liam's face as he strokes his lower belly, then pops the button on his jeans, sliding the zip down. Liam's skin is jumpy underneath his fingers as he slides his hand into Liam's boxers, touches the skin on the head of his penis. 

Liam rocks, teeth sunk into his lower lip so hard Brett thinks he might draw blood if he's not careful. "Brett," he gasps out in the next breath. " _Please_ -"

Brett loves it when Liam asks like that, desperate, like Brett is the only one who can give him release. And maybe he is; after all, he's the only one who ever _has_.

"Please what?" he teases, beginning to rub.

"Hmm," Liam whimpers. Brett doesn't know what the hell _that's_ supposed to mean, and he doesn't care. All that matters is that it's a positive noise - the air between them is thick with the heady, salty scent of arousal.

Brett unbuttons his own jeans, unzips them, watches Liam's face carefully for any sign that he doesn't want this. None comes. He yanks both their boxers and jeans down, lines them up, and squeezes them together.

Liam yelps, and Brett pauses only as long as it takes to ascertain that it wasn't a sound of pain. He rubs them slowly. Liam reaches down, putting his hand over Brett's. 

Brett leans down, sucking a mark into the base of Liam's throat. He strokes them together, slowly, feels Liam dribbling precome at a steady rate. Liam's pulse hammers away beneath Brett's tongue, and when Liam gasps his name, the sounds of his voice fills Brett's hearing.

Liam's rigid in his grip, every vein on his dick throbbing anxiously against Brett's. His jeans and boxers have scrunched down lower from his rocking, and Brett slides his free hand around Liam's hip to his ass.

"Brett," Liam says, and Brett registers the startled tone of his voice and is already beginning to pull away when Liam continues, "I don't know if I'm - ah - ready - for that."

"Okay." Brett nods, withdraws his hand, uses it to pinch Liam's nipple. Judging by the harsh, surprised noise he makes, it elicits both pleasure and pain. 

He notices that Liam's torso is flushed from the nipples up, extending up his chest and neck and into his face. He revels at the red colour, presses his fingers in just to watch them form white circles against the swath of red skin, then fade away into nothingness.

"I love full-body blushers," he whispers to Liam. 

As if on cue, the blush deepens and Liam strains up against him. Even his dick is flushed, and Brett thinks that's pretty interesting, so if he leans down to give it a little lick, well, that's not so strange.

"Fuck," Liam whimpers quietly.

"Yeah?" Brett keeps jacking himself with one hand, leans down to lick a stripe along the underside of Liam's dick, where the vein throbs blue and wide, obvious, at the surface.

He doesn't give Liam a chance to reply, just takes him in and begins swirling his tongue around the head. Liam buries his fingers in Brett's hair, and Brett feels a shiver of anticipation at Liam's fingernails on his scalp, feels it in slow-motion as Liam winds the soft blonde hair around his fingers and pulls. Brett loves having his hair pulled, and Liam's doing it just right; not so hard he'll go bald prematurely, but hard enough to make Brett's dick throb impatiently. He doesn't even have the presence of mind to fight back the groan of pleasure in his throat. 

"Brett," Liam whispers. He's rocking his hips up, gently, the action uncertain. Brett wants him to move, though, wants to know how Liam wants it, the speed, the depth, all of it. It seems like Liam might need a bit of encouragement, though, so Brett snakes his hands around Liam's hips and begins to push and pull him, hoping he'll get the idea and begin to move.

Liam's hips stutter before he takes up the movement, and with him gasping and throbbing underneath Brett's mouth, Brett begins to pay more attention to himself, feeling his orgasm build rapidly at the base of his spine. His dick is stiffening gratefully at the attention Liam's giving his hair and scalp. He'll get off from this, he knows it. 

"Brett," Liam whines, and Brett can tell, from the way his whole body is strung tight, that he's going to come. He pulls off, jacks Liam hard and fast, because this time he wants to watch him come.

"Brett," Liam says urgently.

"I know," Brett whispers, leaning down to tongue at Liam's earlobe. "It's okay. Come for me."

Just like the first time, Liam bucks up into his hand and comes with a symphony of noise on his lips, pleas and cries and mostly Brett's name. He spills all over his own chest and stomach, rolling his hips feebly in the aftermath. 

It's the hottest fucking thing Brett's seen. His own orgasm is approaching but all he wants to do is fucking watch, drink the sight up. He hovers over Liam for a moment, stroking himself, watching Liam's sides heave in a desperate, constant grab for air, his eyelashes fluttering, the vague twitches of his pelvis. 

Brett's just about to roll over and finish his business when Liam cracks his eyes open, grabs his waist, and says, "Come on me."

His belly and chest are already wet and sticky with his own come, cheeks flushed, marks lining his collarbones and neck. They'll be gone soon. It's pretty much the hottest thing Brett's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of very hot things.

"Liam," he pants.

"I want you to," Liam rushes out. "Come on me, Brett. Please?"

Liam's words sucker-punch the orgasm out of him, and he watches, panting, as his own come stripes Liam's belly and chest. Liam rolls his hips upward languidly. It's blinding, white-hot in its intensity, lasts longer than he ever would on his own. 

He wants to take a picture of this - Liam, sprawled out on the bed, legs open, Brett kneeling in between them. Liam, striped and dirty with his own come and Brett's, staring up at him, flushed and panting. Instead, he pitches forward briefly, resting his forehead on Liam's shoulder, catching his breath. Liam's scent blankets him, makes him drowsy with the sense of belonging.

When he comes back, he lifts his head to find that Liam is staring up at him, eyes soft and trusting as he reaches out. He's a cuddler. Figures.

"Not yet," Brett murmurs, though he does lean forward to kiss Liam quickly. "I'm gonna get a towel, clean us up."

Liam nods quietly.

Brett wets the towel and brings it back, reflecting that the atmosphere has changed - that there's a new scent coming off Liam and he can't work out, exactly, what it is. He wipes Liam's stomach down - Liam wriggles away from him when he's not careful enough with his dick, which is still hyper-sensitive and red - and tosses the towel into the clothes basket before lying back down.

"That was pretty good," Liam says finally.

Brett reaches over and draws Liam against his side, because he feels like that's the kind of thing Liam probably wants right now. There are bruises on his hips and sides, hickeys still visible. They'll be gone by tomorrow, but for now, Brett admires them.

"Marked you up," he says.

Liam looks down at his own body curiously. "Oh. Yeah." Then hides his face like if Brett can't see him flush, he won't know Liam's embarrassed. "That was kind of cool," he mumbles.

"What? Me being rough?"

"Not _rough_ , just... firm."

Brett wonders if there are issues in that statement that need to be explored. He lets it go. He's not Liam's counsellor, he's his fuckbuddy. Except that doesn't really feel right either.  
He rolls onto his stomach and noses behind Liam's ear, his neck, under his jaw, a hand on Liam's belly to hold him still. 

"Is that scent-marking?" Liam asks. "Because I think you've done a pretty good job already." 

"No," Brett murmurs, resting his chin on Liam's shoulder and breathing him in. The faint scent of limes and apples from his soap, the tang of sweat, the faintly musky scent. "I'm scenting you," he explains.

"What's that?" 

"Have you been taught about chemo signals?" Brett asks.

"Sort of, but I'm not very good yet," Liam says.

"When you scent someone in a relaxed state, it's easier to figure out when they're in a heightened state of emotion," Brett says. "But you're almost never relaxed."

"You're scenting me so you can tell when I'm sad?" Liam asks.

"Yeah." Brett shrugs. "And if anything happened to you, I'd be able to find you. Your scent changed a lot when you were turned. I could tell as soon as I got off the bus."

He looks up at Liam. "If Scott doesn't notice this," he says, "he's officially the dumbest alpha ever."

Liam laughs.


	5. Five - Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the next two chapters are about 10k EACH and are both written from Liam's perspective because I couldn't help myself. I debated splitting them up but nah. They're a bitch to edit though. This chapter is fluff and angst and smut and everything else in between. Thanks for continuing to read and comment and bookmark and kudo! It means the world <3 Enjoy!

**Chapter Five - Pressure**  
Liam's P.O.V  


Liam's phone goes off halfway through history.

He freezes, but Mr. Yukimura doesn't seem to notice, so Liam slides his phone quietly out of his pocket to look at the screen. 

**From** : Brett Talbot, 9:23AM  
Catch up tonight?

Liam's stomach does something horrendously uncomfortable to itself, folding over and squashing a few other organs along with it. He swallows and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He's almost three weeks into this thing and he still isn't sure what the hell is going on where Brett is concerned.

He doesn't know anything. Doesn't know what's going on with his pack, doesn't know why Brett got him off in Sinema, doesn't know why he tracked Brett down in the first place, doesn't know who drugged him (or _why_ ), can't seem to make sense of anything in his life.

The only thing he's going to get answers to any time soon is whether or not Brett actually gives a shit about him. Because they've been hooking up - it's been nothing more than handjobs and awkward rutting, but it's more than Liam's ever experienced - and Liam's room smells almost permanently of his former captain but Liam doesn't know what, if anything, any of that means.

It's taken him a while to come to terms with it - a while being a fortnight or so - but he's realised now that he wants it to mean something. He was resistant to that idea at first, because his whole life his sexuality has been as simple as saying "I'm straight" and having the evidence to back it up, but Brett's thrown a spanner into the machinery of his mind.  
And at the start, he really didn't feel anything for Brett. It just felt good to get off to something other than porn and his own hand, but after a while he found himself wishing Brett would stay the night - and not even so they could get each other off, either.

He knows he should stop if Brett doesn't feel the same way, because he'll only get hurt in the long run, but it's not that easy. Brett is a light spot at the moment, the only thing that feels good while the Dread Doctors terrorise Beacon Hills and Liam feels the itch of his wolf beneath the surface, wanting to rage and howl.

The bell rings and Liam staggers out of his seat, checking his phone again when it vibrates insistently. There are two more messages, both from Brett.

 **From** : Brett Talbot, 9:28AM  
I can pick you up if you want. 

**From** : Brett Talbot, 9:37AM  
???

There's another part of him that reminds him, almost daily, that Brett admitted to scent marking him because he wanted to, as a sign of affection, but Liam really doesn't know what that means either, if anything. It's not like he feels comfortable enough to ask anyone. 

Liam's confused. So maybe Brett only wants the sex? He doesn't know. 

**To** : Brett Talbot, 9:41AM  
Okay

 _I let him come on me. I begged him to come on me_ -

"Dude," Mason's voice says, and Liam jumps. "You've been so weird today."

Liam blushes. "Sorry."

Mason shrugs. "What's going on with you? You're acting really weird, disappearing after school-"

 _To make out with Brett fucking Talbot in his car and my bed and wherever else we can_ , Liam thinks, feeling slightly hysterical because this cannot be his life. 

"Liam?"

"I'm hooking up with Brett!" Liam blurts out.

Mason stares at him. "I know," he says slowly. "You were with him at Sinema-"

"No, no, since then," Liam moans. "I mean since you guys did your white knight thing and saved me. We've been hooking up."

Mason's jaw drops. "Are you serious?"

"Would I make it up?"

"I never pegged you for being gay," Mason says, surprised.

Liam slams his locker door. "I'm not gay!" he hisses.

Mason raises his eyebrows. "Dude."

"I'm not!" Liam insists. "Look, I still like girls, okay? And I don't - I've never liked a guy that wasn't Brett so-"

"So you're heteroflexible," Mason says encouragingly as they head towards their lunch table. "No big deal, dude."

"What the hell is heteroflexible?" Liam asks, trying to keep the shrill note out of his voice.

"Straight, but shit happens," Mason replies with a grin. "Or, straight, but Brett Talbot happened." 

"I have no idea what I'm doing, Mason," Liam moans, slumping down at a table outside and pulling his lunch out. "He seems to know what's going on and I'm always - I don't know, two steps behind or something. It sucks."

"Wait," Mason says gleefully. "Have you been _seduced_ by Brett Talbot?"

"He didn't seduce me!" Liam snaps. "We made out at Sinema and the next thing I know he's got me in the back room with his hand around my-"

"Okay, I get it," Mason says. "No offense, Li, but you're pretty much my brother, that's all I need to hear about your dick. And he's been - what? Have you been hooking up with him? Multiple times in a week?"

"Yeah," Liam whines.

"You tramp," Mason says gleefully.

" _Mase_!" Liam says, feeling honestly scandalised. 

"Sorry, sorry," Mason laughs. "Seriously, though, dude, how far have you gone?"

Liam feels the blush climbing up his chest and into his neck and face, remembers Brett commenting on how much he likes full-body blushers, and hides his face in his hands. "I thought you didn't want to hear about my dick?" he asks weakly. 

"I don't," Mason agrees vehemently. "Don't change the subject. You're a terrible liar. Spill."

"I, okay, well, there's been - you know, hands? And - general, you know, nakedness?"

Mason's almost crippled with laughter, listening to Liam try to spit out the vague details of his tryst with Brett. "Liam," he says, "you can use the real words. It won't burn my ears or anything."

Liam whines.

"Okay. How about I say them and you just nod or shake your head?"

"Okay." Liam thinks maybe he won't die of embarrassment that way. 

"So he gave you a handjob?"

Liam nods.

"Okay. He moves fast but okay. I would be down for that." Liam can hear the truth ring in Mason's voice and squashes the tiny, jealous part of him ready to throttle anyone else who looks at Brett. He sinks lower in his chair.

"How about head?" Mason asks.

Liam nods.

"Are you serious?" How can Mason sound so unabashedly gleeful about all of this when Liam is going to die in the midst of his embarrassment and turmoil? "Who? Who did?"

"He did," Liam says faintly. "To me."

"Dude," Mason says reverently, "you are _so lucky_."

"Mase, I'm glad you're happy for me, but I'm kind of about to have a breakdown so-"

"Right. But why? Why're you freaking out?" Mason queries. "I mean, are you worried about having to tell people?"

Liam tucks his head down, unsure of how to answer. He doesn't know why it matters to him that Brett is much more experienced than him, doesn't know why it gets under his skin the way it does. His I.E.D is acting up and his therapist says it's likely because of all the changes happening in his life lately, like moving to a new school and starting all over (and the stuff she doesn't know about, like him being a werewolf and hooking up with his former rival and team captain in the back room of Sinema). His I.E.D is acting up and he's back on the fucking Risperdal, and it makes him groggy and sleepy in the morning, numbing him down so he couldn't get mad if he _wanted_ to, but at night he's wide awake or having nightmares about the dread doctors, about teenagers vomiting mercury and the howls of his pack as they're slaughtered. 

And, to add to it, he likes Brett. There's something painful and visceral about it, about how much being close to Brett soothes him, and it's as confusing as much as it hurts. He doesn't know why Mason or Scott or any of the rest of the pack don't have the same effect on him, but they don't. Liam doesn't want to like Brett like this, like he's some vapidly-smiling, dancing teenage girl from a music video. The truth is more than that. 

The visceral part, he thinks, is the part of him that knows that he cares about Brett, and it hasn't taken him long to get there. His head is still tangled up in hating him for what happened at Devonford Prep, and his heart hasn't gotten the memo to slow the fuck down with all the emotions already. Especially because Liam is pretty sure - deep down, where he's not ready to examine it - that Brett doesn't feel the same about him, and that Liam is merely a quick release option a step up from Brett's own right hand.

"Hey."

Liam blinks himself out of his frantic downward spiral, finding Mason's hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. "Come on," he says softly. "I won't tease you, man, I promise. What's going on?"

Liam wants to explain, he really does. But he's scared about what he's feeling and confused as hell and doesn't know if anything he's feeling is even, what, valid? Real, or just a figment of his own mind?

"Don't do that," Mason says.

"Do what?" Liam asks.

"Do that thing," Mason says, "where you just go all quiet and wait until I get tired of badgering you. Dude." He smiles. "You're a werewolf. And you thought I'd freak over that, but I didn't, right? Just... even if you don't talk to me, talk to someone. Scott, maybe? He's your alpha. It's not healthy for you to bottle all this stuff up." 

"No, I-" Liam pauses to swallow. "I don't wanna tell Scott," he says. "I just don't know how to tell you either. I want to. I just don't know how."

Mason's probably known that's his problem for a while - that he wants to tell, just can't find the words - but he looks relieved to hear it aloud. "Start anywhere," Mason says. "When you're ready. Doesn't have to be now. In fact..." He digs in his bag. "I'm pretty sure Mom gave me an extra sandwich today, and I'm not gonna eat it. Might need your help with that."

Liam smiles gratefully. He knows Mason's mom didn't accidentally give him an extra sandwich. Mason's been doing this for a while now, bringing extra food to school because Liam's hungry all the time now that he's a werewolf. Stiles explained it, something about faster metabolisms, and Mason hung onto every word. Liam's not dumb. He knows it isn't a coincidence that every day since then Mason has somehow ended up with double the food he usually has.

He bites into the sandwich and listens as Mason rambles on about anything and everything. He's always been the listener in their friendship - and he likes it that way. Mason's better now, but it didn't used to be like this. Half the fights he's ever been in have been him yanking some asshole off his friend and pounding their faces in for the stuff they'd say - _faggot, homo, see, guys, he's down on his knees where he likes it_ \- and he thinks that most of the detentions and suspensions he got were worth it. 

He chews slowly on the sandwich, trying to make it last and thinking about what bothers him the most. He eyes Mason nervously - it's dumb, it's just Mason, Mason who he's known since forever and wouldn't ever judge him for anything - and finally clears his throat to speak.

Mason's heartbeat jumps, and Liam tries to ignore it. 

"My I.E.D's been getting worse," he admits finally. "I'm back on Risperdal."

Mason doesn't look pitying, exactly, but there's something sad and sympathetic in the expression he gives Liam. If anyone knows how hard it's been for him, it's Mason. "I'm sorry, dude."

Liam shrugs. He can't find the words again, but Mason prompts him anyway, grounding him, giving him direction. "Did your therapist say why?"

Liam nods. "She says that all the changes - like, changing schools and stuff - has probably upset whatever mental balance I have left," he says moodily. "And that's only one thing. Never mind that I'm fifteen years old and a werewolf, or that I'm sleeping with a seventeen year old, or that said seventeen year old used to tear me to shreds in front of all our team mates. She doesn't know about any of that." This is the most he's spoken out loud for a while, gets self-conscious about his own voice, shuts up.

Mason is looking at him searchingly, trying to catch his eye. "But there's a little more to it, right?" he asks gently, like he might scare Liam away if he's not careful. It's not unwarranted - Liam is scared by almost everything that isn't a normal action or easily dealt with emotion.

Liam sighs and nods.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"I don't think Brett likes me." It hurts to say aloud, and when Mason opens his mouth, Liam keeps talking, desperate to get it all out there, to stop it from adding to the pressure in his chest. "I mean, he likes me enough to hook up with me, but I don't think - it means anything more than that."

"But it does to you?" Mason seems honestly surprised at that.

"Yeah, maybe," Liam mumbles. 

"Maybe you should tell him," Mason begins.

"No," Liam says vehemently. "Not ever."

"Liam. Maybe you should tell him and see what happens. When're you seeing him next?"

"After school. He's picking me up."

"Look," Mason says, leaning close. "I saw him with you in that club. He was freaking out. Looked like he was going to rip my head off when I suggested we take you to the bathroom instead of getting you out of there. He didn't leave you all night, Liam. All night."

"I know, you've told me," Liam mumbles.

"But did you get it?" Mason asks. "I don't think you do, man. He held your side all the way up the stairs, tried to drain away as much pain as he could. The same in the bathroom, in the car, when we got back. He does care. Maybe he's in denial about it, but he does. He's been scent marking you, he scares everyone away who comes near you - what more proof do you need?"

Liam shrugs. 

"I mean," Mason presses, "I haven't ever seen you that sick. I wouldn't have known what to do. He did. And he was stayed even though he didn't really have to."

"Yeah," Liam murmurs. "I know."

~*~

The thing that scares Liam most about Lydia has to be the way she looks at him like she's looking into him and can see every single one of his thoughts laid bare. 

She brought him coffee, though, even though he doesn't like it much, because she knows how much he really hates biology and struggles with it, and now, even as he's working through the problems - which is sort of like wading through mud with no legs - she's watching him with that piercing, calculating expression.

"I can't concentrate when you look at me like I'm a science experiment," he says nervously, finally breaking under the pressure. 

"I'm not looking at you like anything," she says innocently. "Do you understand mitosis yet?"

"I don't understand any of it," Liam groans, rubbing his face. "I'm probably not even going to live long enough to graduate, why bother?"

He must be imagining the small curve of a smile on her mouth, because he's never made Lydia smile before. The pack told him that the original plan was to get Lydia to invite him to the party on his first full moon, but truth be told, he probably would've been way too intimidated to even talk, let alone agree to go. 

"Oh my God, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Liam looks up to see Stiles rushing towards them, a heavy book under one arm and his backpack sliding halfway off his other. As per usual, he looks harried and anxious; Liam doesn't need to tune into his emotional state to know that, even though they all sort of make it a habit to monitor him. 

He does, however, catch the faint scent of blood in the air and sits up straighter. It's not coming from Lydia, and Stiles is favouring his left arm. 

"Stiles," Lydia says, "Liam's having enough trouble grasping cell mitosis without you interrupting him."

Liam, always eager for a reason not to study, sits up. "It's okay," he says, because he really wants to know why Stiles is bleeding and if anyone else knows. "Do you need help?"

Stiles looks pleased. "I do, as a matter of fact," he says. "I need a werewolf with a strong nose and a lack of respect for the school timetable."

Liam opens his mouth to offer himself up for whatever half-planned genius Stiles has planned, then catches Lydia's disapproving look.

Stiles sees it too. "Oh, come on, Lydia," he moans. "How am I supposed to do anything with my pathetic human senses? I'll have him back before the bell rings." 

"Fine." Liam knows she's only saying that because her phone just went off, and he saw Parrish's name flash across the screen before she hid it. "But he studies on the way there."

"Deal! Alright, let's go, Liam. Hustle."

"Thanks, Lydia," Liam calls over his shoulder as he grabs his things and hurries after Stiles. Everyone in the pack has longer legs than him with the exception of Kira, so he struggles to keep up without jogging - especially with Stiles, who doesn't even seem to have a stop button, let alone a "slow" setting. 

"Where are we going?" Liam asks eagerly. He likes being included in pack stuff, especially because they all wore kiddie gloves with him for so long. He wants to prove himself, given the chance.

"We're tracking Theo," Stiles says.

Liam feels suddenly uncomfortable. "Uh... does Scott know?" he asks uneasily. It goes against his nature to keep secrets from Scott - both as his beta and as his friend. So Scott's been kind of absent minded lately; he's just got a lot of stuff on. He should still _know_ ; he's their alpha. 

"No," Stiles says, a tinge of annoyance to his tone. "And he's not going to, either."

Liam wants to ask why but he hasn't seen them together for a while, and Stiles smells anxious and afraid and like blood and open wounds. 

"Okay," Liam says softly, feeling sort of deflated. He doesn't like them not talking. He's loyal to both of them and he wants to tell Scott what's going on but Stiles asked him not to, and Stiles would never keep anything bad from Scott, so it's fine. Probably.

"So," Stiles says as they climb into the Jeep. "Mitosis, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm not - very good at biology," Liam says sheepishly.

Stiles shrugs. "Can't be good at everything. What part don't you get?"

"All of it," Liam says.

"Okay. You know the Terminator movies? How the robots self-replicate and heal themselves and destroy stuff?"

"Yeah." 

"So one robot creates another, right? The new robot is made up of all the same components as the old robot, and the new robot can make more of itself and so on and so forth. Okay, so now imagine a cell. The chromosomes of the original cell are divided into two separate copies that are identical, each with its own nucleus."

"Oh," Liam says. "That's all?"

"Yeah. You got it now?"

"I think so." 

Stiles has just launched into an explanation of sixteenth century history when the Jeep makes a pitiful noise and slows to a stop. He swears - "Gimme a second Liam," - and gets out, going to the bonnet to haul it up.

Liam smells the spike of pain before Stiles almost drops the hood of the Jeep on himself and launches himself out of the car, catching it and pushing it up before it can slam down on Stiles' back. He's leaning forward, a hand gripping his injured shoulder.

"What happened to you?" Liam asks apprehensively. 

Stiles straightens up. "Same thing that almost happened then," he says. "The hood fell on me when I was fixing it the other night."

His heartbeat doesn't skip and there's no change in his scent to give him away, but Liam knows, he _knows_ , that Stiles is lying to him. Stiles has had years of experience lying around werewolves and supernatural creatures; Liam isn't sure how he knows, but he does.

"What really happened?" he asks. 

Stiles gives him a strange look. "Liam, it's fine," he says impatiently.

Liam feels a spike of anger at that. "It's not fine," he says heatedly, "you're bleeding and you haven't told anyone. Why?"

Stiles stares at him. "You know?"

"I can smell it," Liam says, softening at how scared Stiles suddenly looks. "As soon as you walked into the library." 

Stiles shakes his head. "It's nothing, Liam."

"Stiles." Liam steps forward, his hand out - he doesn't know what he's trying to achieve here, if Stiles will even listen to him - "what happened? Just, it could be bad, if it's still bleeding now, it might be bad." He blinks. "I promise not to tell Scott."

His wolf has a massive "what the fuck" moment at that point, because his alpha should know that Stiles is hurt and keeping it a secret but if this is what it takes for Stiles to open up he'll do it.

The promise seems to placate Stiles, who pulls the shoulder of his hoodie down to reveal a weeping, circular wound with teeth marks patterned around the centre, where the bleeding is the worst.

Liam swallows. "What-"

"It was Donovan," Stiles says shortly.

"But - Donovan died a week ago." Liam's struggling to make the connection, even though he feels like it should be easy. "What happened? Did the Doctors get him?" He reaches out to touch the sore. "Why is it still bleeding? Why hasn't it healed?" 

"I don't know." Stiles sounds tired. "I'm okay, Liam."

"But what happened to Donovan?" Liam presses.

Stiles is looking at the ground, not at him. The Jeep is still smoking faintly, and Liam's brain clicks everything neatly into place.

"You fought," he says shakily, because he doesn't want to say _you killed him_ because Stiles would never hurt anyone, kill anyone, if he didn't have to-

"Liam, you can't tell Scott," Stiles insists. "Okay? You can't tell him."

"I won't," he says, because he promised. "But you should - you're hurt, Stiles - and he wouldn't - you didn't mean to, did you?"

"No. No, He was trying to eat my legs, and I climbed up a bookshelf in the library - I pulled a pin out of the support beams and everything just crashed down and he got impaled. I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

Liam breathes a sigh of relief at that because he needed to hear it from Stiles himself. "You should tell him," he says shakily. "It was an accident. You said was an accident so just - tell him what you told me, right? It's Scott. He's not going to judge you-"

"Yes, Liam, he will, because he's Scott and he doesn't kill people." Stiles smells so afraid and anxious Liam thinks it might make him throw up, and the stench of blood and pain is so thick in the air he could cut it with a knife, and he doesn't know what else to do so he reaches out and touches the wound.

He's seen Brett do it before, but Liam's never known how. Brett seems to do it easily, like it just happens - Liam remembers it ebbing away from him in the bathroom when Brett touched his neck and held him upright, the way it cleared his head enough for him to know he was safe - but Liam doesn't know how. He's going to try.

He doesn't want Stiles to hurt. It scares him enough that Stiles doesn't feel like he can tell Scott, that he's been walking around with this on his mind for a week and that can't be good for a person either-

"Liam, don't," Stiles says, but he's a fraction of a second too late. Liam's veins turn black and he gasps, surprised that it hurts him to do it. He didn't know that. 

He pulls his hand away a few seconds later, shaking. Stiles stares at him.

"You've never done that before," Stiles says.

"I'm sorry," Liam breathes. "I won't tell Scott. But you should. Please, Stiles."

He's surprised when Stiles pulls him into a hug, hugs back because he doesn't know what to do with his arms.

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles sounds hoarse, exhausted. "Come on. I promised Lydia I'd have you back before the bell."

But he doesn't promise to tell Scott. 

~*~

Brett's car is idling in the parking lot when he heads out there after class, and even though he was expecting it, Liam feels his heart jump. He heads towards it slowly, not sure how he's going to approach anything. Or even if he will, actually. 

"Hey," Brett says when he gets into the car.

"Hi," Liam replies, his voice squeaky. Brett gives him an odd look, but starts driving. "So um," Liam says, "you're picking me up."

"... Yeah. I mean, your observation skills are amazing."

"Why?" Liam asks nervously. He doesn't want this to lead to jerking off or head or anything else unless there's a resolution in it for him.

"I thought we could hang out," Brett says. "Do something."

"Like what?" Liam's tearing at a thread on his jeans, knows he probably looks crazy and nervous, can't bring himself to care enough to stop. 

"Like... okay, what's wrong with you?" Brett asks flatly.

"What are you talking about?" Liam asks sourly. He's determined to not give anything up unless he's forced to. Having Brett in any way, even if it's not in the way he wants, is better than not having him at all. 

"You realise I can hear your heartbeat, right? You're freaking out. What's going on?"

"I'm not freaking out," Liam says feebly, knowing his heart is stuttering pathetically over the lie. Brett gives him a disbelieving look as he pulls into Liam's driveway.

"You've been acting weird since you got in the car," Brett says. "So what's going on? I'm not leaving until you tell me."

"That really makes me want to tell you," Liam snaps. He gets out of the car and grabs his bag, begins storming up the steps, only to feel Brett move behind him and grab his arm.

"What're you doing?" Liam yells. "Get off!"

He can feel the acidic burn of his I.E.D right beneath the surface, dissolving through his skin, into his brain, looking for a fight. He knows it's there, tries to fight it down, but it's a half-hearted attempt at best, what with him really wanting to let it take over so he can wolf out and punch Brett in his stupid handsome face. 

"Liam." Brett lets him go, and Liam - past the anger clouding his vision, thrumming in his ears - can smell the concern and confusion coming off his former captain. "What's going on?" Brett asks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare-"

"You _didn't_ ," Liam snarls, fishing desperately for his key. He needs to go upstairs and take his stupid drugs, lie down, scream into a pillow, something, anything, to keep him from lashing out and hurting Brett. He knows, logically, that he's losing it over nothing, that Brett hasn't really done anything, but he's been strung out all day and the Risperdal just isn't cutting it anymore with his stupid new metabolism, and Brett won't let him escape inside.

"Okay," Brett says, and Liam bites down on his lip at how angry that tone of voice makes him - that deliberate de-escalation bullshit his parents try on him all the time - winds his fists close to his palms and feels his claws sinking into the tendons of his palms. The metallic scent of his blood hits the air almost straight away, but he doesn't stop. 

Just needs Brett to shut up, for ten seconds, so he can breathe, try to get a handle on this, let the pain ground him, let it bring him back. It always does. 

_The sun, the moon, the truth_. He doesn't need to say it out loud for it to help anymore. _The sun, the moon, the truth_.

"Jesus, Liam, your hands-"

Brett reaches for them, touches them, and Liam feels his tenuous grip on control snap. 

"Stop!" he bellows, winds back, and punches the doorframe so hard it dents. The blinding agony of the bones in his hand breaking brings him back, his heartbeat ringing, deafening, in his ears, his vision still foggy with rage. 

And now that it's over, Liam's hit with the remorse. He's embarrassed Brett saw this, embarrassed he can't control it, guilty that it even happens. Angry, because no matter what he does, no matter how well he's doing, it's always there, waiting for the chance to flare up - like _now_.

"Liam," Brett says softly.

Liam cradles his broken hand in his good one, getting both covered in blood from his claws. The cuts haven't healed yet. That happens, sometimes, when he's really mad - they don't heal over, like he believes he deserves the pain. It happened to Scott too, once. Much like everything else that happened pre-bite, Liam doesn't know the details. 

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, trying to stop it from trembling, because he wants to cry. As if things weren't bad enough, and now Brett has _another_ reason not to want him-

"Don't do that," Brett says, stepping forward. Liam barely grazes his eyes, too afraid they're wet around the edges. 

Brett puts a hand on his neck gingerly. "Stop," he commands softly. "Have you got your key? We'll go inside."

Liam lifts an arm to swipe clumsily at his face. "You don't have to," he mutters. "I'm used to it."

"I want to." Brett's hand is still on his neck. "Seriously. Where's your key?"

Liam hands it over, wincing when the movement tugs at the wounds in his palm. Brett unlocks the door and lets them in, and the moment his hand falls away from Liam's neck, Liam's aching for it to be back there.

Liam heads upstairs to the bathroom, feeling tired, washed out. He reaches to start the taps, but Brett gets there before he can smear blood all over them, making the water warm and guiding Liam's hands under the stream. He's close enough that Liam can feel the heat coming off his arms, can see the way Brett is watching him unflinchingly, his face written in a language Liam doesn't quite grasp yet but wants to.

Liam watches his blood swirl around the plughole despondently. "Thanks."

"No problem," Brett says easily. "Let me set your hand."

Liam holds it out obediently, chokes back the noise that tries clawing its way out of his throat when Brett cracks his bones back into place. He shuts his eyes, sits down on the edge of the bathtub, and waits for the guilt to fade long enough for him to heal. He's bone tired, it feels like, out of energy for whatever it is Brett's probably got planned. He wants to retreat inside - like he always does - where it's safe and the only thing to torture him is his own thoughts. 

"Liam?" Brett asks.

"Listen, whatever you're gonna say, I've probably already thought in the last ten minutes," Liam says resignedly. "So no need to call me a time bomb or anything like that." 

It feels good to say it, because it serves to remind Brett that he was an asshole about Liam's I.E.D. Liam's angry about that, fucking bitter as hell, because even though they weren't close, Brett was Liam's captain at Devonford and Liam trusted him. Brett let him down. It's only karma, now, that Brett's on the receiving end on one of Liam's admittedly less violent episodes.

There's a long silence. Liam keeps his eyes shut. He doesn't want to be alone, but he also doesn't want the weight of Brett's eyes on the top of his head, either. 

He hears Brett move, the slide of his jeans against the tiled floor. When he opens his eyes, Brett's kneeling in front of him, putting his hand back on Liam's neck. 

The pain fades, and the boa constrictor wrapped around Liam's ribcage loosens its grip. He watches Brett's veins turn inky black for a moment, then disappear beneath his skin.

"Better?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam says softly.

They sit like that for a moment, and Liam looks down at his hands. The puncture wounds on his palms are disappearing. He winces as he feels the bones in his left hand crack and snap as they shift back into alignment, heal properly. He squeezes his fist.

"Good," Brett says decisively. "You wanna do something?"

"You don't have to stay," Liam says. "I get it. I really do. I don't mind if you go. I won't stop hooking up with you if you do." 

Brett blinks. "Is that what this is to you?" he asks.

Liam shrugs. "Isn't that what it is to you?"

"No." Brett sounds taken aback. "I came and found you in the locker room, Liam, I don't chase up any one-night stands like that. I got rid of that guy who was bugging you-"

"But all we've done since then is fuck," Liam says, frustrated. "We don't talk, we don't do things together, we just fuck." He knows he probably sounds like the biggest idiot right now, and wonders why Brett would want to be with someone who has the emotional consistency of a marshmallow-

"I didn't..." Brett sighs. "I didn't mean for it to just be that, okay? I didn't. I just wasn't sure - if you wanted it at all. I figured you're probably straight but taking what you can get, you know?" 

"No." Liam blinks - fuck, he's going to cry. He knows it. "Look, I'm really sorry about before," he says shakily. "I just, I can't always control it. I'm on drugs-" and fuck, he didn't mean for that to slip out, never wanted Brett to know that "-and they're meant to help but they don't always work and I burn through them faster now that I'm a werewolf. I wasn't going to hurt you, though. I swear. I wasn't going to-"

 _Hurt you_. He finished the thought in his head as his throat closes over, swelling painfully with shame and guilt, and he swallows uncomfortably around the lump in it. Fuck, he really does _not_ want to cry right now. 

"I know," Brett says. "That's why you aimed at the wall, right?"

Liam nods.

"The pain grounds you," Brett says. "It's like that for a lot of werewolves. Before the deadpool, Satomi's pack had over fifty members. And they all did that, from time to time, dug their claws into different bits of their bodies just to stay grounded during the full moon. Or when they were freaking out. It's a little different for born werewolves, but we still use it too."

Liam lets Brett's voice wash over him in waves, soothing him. He's still got a hand on the side of Liam's neck - probably, Liam realises, measuring his pulse by touch, as well as listening for it. 

He swallows, throat convulsing painfully around his Adam's apple, which feels like it's taking up most of the space in his windpipe. He's still teetering on the brink of tears, doesn't want to cry - he's done a really good job of pretending to hold it together, but he's started dreaming about the Berserkers again, he knows Stiles killed Donovan - _Stiles killed Donovan_ \- and he's bound to secrecy, he's lost control of his I.E.D again, and he's sick of being in this house alone all the time. 

He lifts an arm and presses it across his eyes because he can feel that they're brimming over, and he doesn't want Brett to see. He tries choking down the sobs but his chest is shaking and heaving and fuck, he's so scared. Of Brett leaving. Of Brett _not_ leaving and seeing him snap. Of Brett seeing him break.

"Liam," Brett murmurs, and his voice is so gentle and concerned that a sob finally breaks its way free from Liam's lungs, lashing out like it's warning Brett away. He can't answer because he's got no space in his lungs for air with all the drowning he's currently doing, and he knows his voice is going to break if he tries.

A few moments pass. Brett's thumb starts stroking the side of his neck, just behind his ear, where there are soft new baby hairs. His other hand squeezes Liam's knee, but only for a moment, before it goes to hold Liam's side. 

"What do you want me to do?" Brett whispers, and his voice echoes, helplessness amplified a thousand times over and worse in the space of the bathroom. Liam can hear himself sniffling pathetically.

"Nothing," he croaks finally. 

There's another long, strained pause. Brett doesn't move even though his knees must hurt by now, and Liam wants to stop crying just so Brett feels like he can get up and leave.

"Liam," Brett says softly. "You need to try and breathe, okay?"

Liam wants to be mad at the bullshit mantra Brett's suggesting to him because therapists have already tried it, but he's too low to snap right now. He's exhausted, and what he wants is for someone to take his choices away from him, and so he tries. 

It's hard, because he can feel the breakdown right beneath the surface, ready to rise up and swallow him like the tidal wave of despair and fear it is - he's been here before - but he's trying.

"That's it." Brett's voice is low, soothing. "Yeah. Good."

Liam wonders if this is as awful for Brett as it is for him, decides it's probably worse because Brett is stuck with someone he'd much rather fuck than comfort and is too responsible and nice to leave him to his breakdown.

"Hey. Come on. You were doing well. It's okay. Start again."

At least he's not wolfing out. There's that to be glad about. 

He listens to Brett exhale softly, tries to mimic it. He hasn't taken his arm away from his eyes and there are little starbursts on the insides of his eyelids, popping and exploding whenever he moves even a little. 

Brett is stroking his back now - when did he move to sit next to Liam? He doesn't know - and the movement is strong and firm, grounding. Liam fits completely under his arm when Brett tugs him in closer, especially because his shoulders are hunched. 

He knows Brett's bigger than him but it hasn't really hit him by how much until now. He doesn't have the emotional capacity right now to feel embarrassed about the way Brett is holding him, still trying to soothe him out of a complete breakdown.

"That's it," Brett says encouragingly. "See? Easy. In and out." 

He's feeling calmer now, raises his other hand so he can mop at his eyes properly, then reluctantly drops them back into his lap, not meeting Brett's eyes. He's not really hiding anymore, but he doesn't want Brett to look regardless. 

"Hey," Brett says softly. "You alright?"

Liam nods. He is, for now, because Brett is warm and solid and grounding where Liam feels cold and rickety and ready to blow away as a wisp of smoke on the wind. He prays Brett doesn't move anytime soon because he doesn't have the courage to ask him to stay, let alone come back if he leaves.

"How are your hands?"

They both know his hands are fine, but maybe Brett knows Liam's trying to retreat back into his own head and escape reality, and maybe he's trying to keep him here, present. Liam opens his palms, revealing the calluses on his palms from working out and the rest of his hands, which are soft and smooth. 

"You're shaking," Brett murmurs, voice humming softly with worry. "Hey. Are you cold?"

Liam shakes his head, sniffs quietly, wipes his eyes again. He feels like he's still fighting his own nervous system for control of his body, doesn't have the energy to devote to speaking words, let alone coherent sentences. 

Brett shifts him in closer again. If anything, Liam's shaking ramps up a notch, and he begins to shy away. He doesn't know why, Brett is soothing and he's being nice right now, not teasing him, although that might come later. 

"Hey. Hey, it's okay."

Liam darts a look up at Brett's face, surprised to find him looking stressed and anxious. He finally allows Brett to pull him in closer. 

"Try to stop shaking, yeah? I know it's hard. This used to happen to me too." 

Liam gives one final violent shiver before focussing on getting control of his body back. The tears stemmed awhile ago but the rest of him is still shell shocked and confused. He wants to ask Brett when and why this has happened to him before, but he doesn't have the energy to go there right now.

Brett hums, a quiet noise in his throat, rubbing Liam's shoulder with his thumb. "Your parents have a sweet bathroom," he says. "Did they remodel it?"

Liam's thrown so completely for a moment that he looks up, forgetting that he's trying to hide his face, and says, "What?"

"The bathroom. It wasn't this big the last time I was here. Did they remodel?"

"I uh-" Liam swallows. "Yeah?"

Brett nods approvingly. "I like it." 

Liam realises a minute later, after Brett's made inane comments about the decor, the wood finish in the hallway and the new couches in the living room that Brett's just trying to distract him, and that it's working. He feels not-crap now. Not okay, but also not like he's going to shake apart. 

Brett must deem him calmer now, because he says, "You know, you have a pretty impressive collection of video games. We should play one."

"They're mostly Mason's." Liam's voice comes out wrecked and scratchy, and he clears his throat. "But yeah. You pick one."

"I haven't played many," Brett says. "We don't have a PlayStation. There's twenty of us. It'd be too hard to have us fight over it."

Liam smiles weakly. "You can use mine whenever you want." 

Brett stands up and helps Liam to his feet. "Guess I'll have to be here more often then," he says, heading for Liam's room. 

~*~

"Liam. Hey."

There's a hand on his side, just below his armpit, pressed down lightly so the fingers slot carefully into the gaps between his ribs. Liam grumbles, rubs at his eyes.

"Wake up," the voice says and oh, that's Brett. Right.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asks, blinking his eyes open.

Brett nods. "Only for a bit." He's leaning over him, and Liam registers that he's in bed with the duvet pulls up haphazardly around his waist. His jeans are gone, but he doesn't remember taking them off - or going to bed, for that matter.

"Did you-"

"You were pretty out of it." Brett smirks, and Liam feels a tiny lick of irritation in his belly before Brett says, "I thought I'd wake you up, see if you wanted to order takeout or something. Besides, you sleep too much now, you won't sleep tonight."

Liam shrugs despondently. "Probably won't anyway," he mutters, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "What do you want for dinner?" 

"I'll eat anything," Brett says.

Liam yawns. "Chinese? There's a place around the corner that delivers." 

Brett smirks. "How long?"

"About half an hour, forty five minutes?"

Brett leans down, pressing the heel of his hand lightly into Liam's crotch. Liam's arousal spikes dramatically, and he barely holds back the whimper threatening to escape his throat.

"I bet I could make you come in that time," Brett says. "You've had a pretty bad day. Want me to make it better?"

"Yeah," Liam breathes. "Okay." He's already half-hard and throbbing, his hips undulating lightly against Brett's hand. 

Brett disappears, leaving Liam with orders not to touch himself. Liam lies there, desperate for friction, hardening just with the knowledge that Brett is coming back soon to play with him and finish him off. 

Five minutes later, Brett's back. He slinks over to the bed, slides up Liam's body - still covered with the duvet - and kisses him with more than a hint of possession. Liam's head spins. He can't believe Brett still wants this, even after today.

The duvet gets pulled back, and Liam shivers a little at the cold air. Brett's hands tug at his boxers, gentle, soft, and Liam knows he's being given the chance to refuse.  
He doesn't. He wants this. He wasn't lying when he told Brett that. 

Brett's hand snakes around, between his thighs, to his ass. This time, Liam doesn't stop him. He's nervous, but he's not unwilling. Doesn't want it to hurt, even though he knows it'll heal. 

"You aren't gonna tell me to stop?" Brett must've heard his heartbeat pick up. Bastard. Liam's probably never gonna be as good at this werewolf thing as him. Brett's got literally a whole lifetime on him, after all. 

"No."

Brett looks at him, even though Liam's heartbeat doesn't stutter. Liam stares back, faces down the challenge. Finally, Brett laughs, says, "got any lube?"

"Oh yeah, I just have some lying around. I'm fifteen." Almost sixteen, Liam thinks, realising his birthday is just over a month away. At least then it won't be illegal for him and Brett to be doing what they are.

Brett raises his eyebrow, pillows his face on Liam's stomach, and waits.

Liam sighs, feeling the blush start up his body. "It's in the desk drawer," he mumbles.

Brett laughs as he stands up. "You didn't think I'd believe you, did you?" 

"I wanted you to," Liam says sourly.

Brett makes a mocking noise and slides back onto the bed. He uncaps the tube, and the sound is enough to quell any irritation Liam's experiencing and replace it with nerves again. "Don't worry," Brett says lightly. "I'll go slow. Distract you."

Liam nods. He doesn't know if there's anything Brett can really do to distract him, but okay. He'll run with it.

Brett kisses him, his mouth, long and deep, before beginning to trail down his body. Liam tries not to quiver but his body is a circuit filled with live wires and Brett is touching every single one on his way south, till he reaches Liam's dick and gives it a little lick, right on the head.

Liam lets out an aggrieved sound, wanting to tell Brett to just get on with it, already, but doesn't get the chance. Brett takes the tip in his mouth, gives it an experimental suck, then begins moving down.

Liam whines, scrabbles at the bed beneath him, can't find anything solid enough to hold onto. He doesn't think before he fists his hands into Brett's hair, letting the soft golden strands run between his fingers, doesn't even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed like he usually would - like he did the first time. 

He's so focussed on the feeling of Brett's mouth around him that he only notices the finger pressing lightly at his entrance when the cold slick of the lube touches him. He jerks a bit, surprised by the sensation, but doesn't pull away. _It's Brett_ , he tells himself. _It's just Brett_. 

The pad of Brett's finger presses, then draws away, repeating the action until Liam is loose and pliant, rolling his hips up to meet Brett's teasing mouth.

When the finger slides in, slowly, up to the second knuckle, all Liam can do is sigh softly at the sensation, because okay, yeah, it's kind of nice, and Brett really seems to know what he's doing. It doesn't hurt, and Liam kind of figured it would at first, but he's okay for now.

He's about to tell Brett that - that he's fine, that is - but Brett uses the flat of his tongue to press against the underside of his dick, and Liam's mouth drops open. He clenches his hands a bit, tries to remember not to yank Brett's hair out.

He likes this. And maybe later he'll have enough of his brain cells firing again to feel embarrassed about it, but he doesn't right now. Right now, it feels really fucking good, and he'd even be down for it if Brett wanted to maybe use another finger-

Brett pulls off his dick, gently, and smirks up at him, lips wet. "Never would have thought you'd enjoy this, Liam," he drawls.

Liam wants to find a witty comeback, but all he ends up with is, "it's not my fault you're so good at it," which of course makes Brett laugh. 

He sinks back down, nuzzles Liam's inner thigh, and Liam fucking trembles like he's an earthquake in progress. His legs are shaking already and he hasn't even come yet. 

"You like this, huh?" Brett murmurs, leaving a wet kiss in the crease between Liam's thigh and dick, then blowing cold air on it. 

"Like what?" Liam pants.

Brett crooks his finger, and Liam sees stars, arches his back, realises he's just played right into whatever it was Brett wanted him to do. "This," Brett says pointedly. "Being on your back, with me between your legs. You like it, huh?" 

Liam quivers. The finger is a strange pressure inside him, and he can feel his body throbbing desperately around it. He doesn't want to admit that what Brett says is true, though. He's not that far gone yet. 

He hasn't answered, and Brett smiles. There's something a little more gentle about it than there was before. Liam barely registers him slicking up another finger.

"How about this?" Brett purrs, and the second finger nudges, then gently pushes in alongside the first.

He knows logically that it's not that much but it feels like a lot to take, in the best way, and Liam has this brief, flashing moment of clarity as he realises he's all about Brett filling him up and stretching him. He groans and pushes his ass down, trying to get Brett to hurry up and move his fingers and do whatever the hell it was he was doing before that made Liam see tiny universes on the inside of his eyelids.

"Uh huh," Liam moans.

Brett's grinning at him. "Say it."

"Say what?" Liam whimpers, rolling his hips and wishing Brett would go back to sucking his dick.

"Say you like it."

Liam stares at Brett belligerently, he's not going to give it up that easy-

Brett scissors his fingers and Liam lets out a noise decidedly louder and filthier than any of the others preceding it, and before he can stop himself he moans, "I love having you between my legs."

His face burns as he says it. Brett's stroking his hip, thrusting his fingers inside. The movement is slow, but firm and deliberate, and Liam arches his hips and tilts his throat up and doesn't care enough about anything other than Brett's fingers to continue being embarrassed.

"I didn't say you had to love it," Brett says, "but I'm glad I'm performing up to standard."

"Fuck, you're an asshole," Liam growls.

"Am I?" Brett gets his hand under Liam's left knee and pushes his leg up. Something clenches in his belly, hot and writhing and desperate, as the angle changes and suddenly that spot is being nailed every time-

"Brett," he gasps.

There's a third finger inside, and this one hurts, but Liam's too distracted by the fine line between pleasure and pain to properly notice. Still, he feels Brett slow down, put a hand on the side of his face, drain the pain away.

"Please," Liam whines. 

"Please what?" Brett murmurs, but he's already moving down and Liam's kind of glad for that, because he doesn't have the audacity to say "suck my dick" and mean it, but anything else sounds wrong in his head.

Brett drops his leg and goes back to his cock, swallowing him down until he's deep-throating him and Liam can hear the noises spilling out of his own mouth but can't stop them, doesn't even really want to, he loves it, all of it - being stretched out and full and so thoroughly fucked by Brett's long, nimble fingers, the helplessness of being flat on his back, the way Brett's lightly scraping his teeth along the head of his penis. 

He feels the familiar bolt of arousal racing up his spine, unfurling in his stomach, opens his mouth to warn Brett - but all that comes out is a desperate, "Oh, God, Brett, _please_ , I'm gonna-" followed by some animalistic, primal whimpering noise he'll refuse to believe came from him later.

Brett nods, humming around his dick, and Liam arches his back desperately. He's almost there, so close, with three of Brett's fingers pushing and stroking and thrusting roughly into him, stretching him, filling him up, the heel of his hand brushing over his balls with every stroke, and Brett's mouth is around his dick, hot and wet and-

" _Brett!_ " 

It comes out as a half-cry, half-howl as his orgasm rips through him, whiting his vision out. He feels Brett swallow around him, and he digs his hands into the duvet beneath him, fists them up towards him desperately, rocking rapidly onto Brett's hand. He tilts his head down, opens his eyes, to see Brett watching him, still sucking.

Liam whines, lets his head drop back onto the pillow, his back strung taut like the string of a bow. He's still not finished - keeps rolling his hips to wring out the last few weak pulses his cock has to give. Brett's lapping it up, and Liam would feel bad about his half-assed warning if Brett didn't seem to be enjoying himself so much. 

Liam shudders and whines when Brett keeps sucking lightly, even though he's done, knots his fingers into his soft blonde hair. He notices, then, that Brett's fingers are still stroking him inside, lightly, almost curiously.

Brett pulls off his dick, letting it sit on Liam's stomach. "Good?" he says, voice low and rough. Liam nods, not sure if the fingers inside are still pleasant or whether he'd prefer them gone.

Brett grins. "Seemed good," he says. "I'm glad your parents aren't home. You couldn't be quiet if you wanted to, Dunbar."

"Guess you're just that good," Liam says, flushed and trying to hide how embarrassing it is to be trembling the way he is. Is he really that loud?

"I bet I could make you hard again," Brett says, leaning in close. "Just from doing this." 

"Maybe not right now," Liam says weakly.

"You'd be surprised." Brett has settled in between his legs, and Liam flushes when he realises Brett's watching his fingers push in and out of him. "I could," Brett murmurs, "but our dinner will be here soon, and you still have to answer the door and pay them." 

Liam doesn't really want Brett to stop, rocks down to prove his point.

Brett smirks. "Thought so."

"You're so cocky," Liam gasps.

Brett's flattened out his fingers, straightened them so they're aligned. He pushes in further, up to his third knuckle, then begins to fan his fingers out. 

"Fuck. _Fuck_ -" The words rush out before Liam can call them back, and even though he knows Brett's watching him for a reaction, he can't help the way his face screws up with pleasure, his eyes rolling back into his head. The pressure is so good and so intense he feels like he's going to break into pieces from it at any moment.

"You know, it only took me ten minutes to make you come," Brett says. "They're probably not even done cooking yet."

His fingers keep widening, and Liam's desperately sure he can't really take much more of it, but his dick is only just beginning to twitch back to life. He's suddenly aware of the panting of his own breath, how his heart's hammering against his ribs. His body feels like one huge, exposed nerve. 

Brett smiles. "Got you worked up," he says. 

"Little," Liam says. He looks down and sees Brett straining against his jeans.

"You're hard," he says faintly.

"Watching you come is pretty hot." 

Liam tries bending forward to tug Brett's zip down, and the action forces his fingers in deeper, making him moan. His face heats up as soon as he realises what he's done - he's lying spread-legged on his bed, moaning like a bitch in heat for some other guy's fingers inside him. 

Mason would probably be proud. 

He feels Brett's pinky finger stroke his hole and shudders violently. Yeah, he's down for that. Into it, even. He nods at Brett as he finally catches the zip on his jeans and drags it down. 

He moans when Brett's pinky pushes in. "You like that, huh?" Brett asks softly. "Taking as much as you can. Me stretching you out, filling you."

"What - is with you - and the dirty talk?" Liam gasps, the words forced out with Brett's thrusts.

Brett smiles. "Don't you like it?"

"I never said that," Liam grits out, biting back a noise at how sensitive every inch of him - inside and out - is. Brett's definitely picking up the pace, and his thrusts are becoming firmer, more deliberate. Liam can hardly tell the difference between pleasure and over-stimulation at this point.

"Good. I'll keep going."

 _One day_ , Liam thinks as he finally succeeds in freeing Brett's dick from his pants, _I'm going to suck him off so good he's going to be crying by the time I'm done._

And then he promptly blushes, realising he's just relished the thought of being on his knees. He can see it; Brett, standing against the wall with his pants half-down, Liam on his knees, holding his hips still, sucking desperately-

He chokes on a moan forcing its way weakly out of his throat, tugging a little faster on Brett's dick, gratified to see it rising and swelling rapidly. His own is half hard against his stomach, red and leaking precome everywhere. 

Brett uses a hand to grasp Liam's hip forcefully, enough to bruise. "You've got no idea," he growls, "how good you look right now."

"It feels good," Liam supplies breathlessly. He's probably not very good at this dirty talk thing but Brett doesn't seem to mind that much. 

"What were you thinking?" Brett pants. "Before?"

"Huh?"

"You were thinking about something. You blushed."

Liam might not be good at dirty talk but he's not good at lying, either, so he decides to tell the truth. "I was thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off," he groans.

Brett's eyes darken with lust, and he leans forward to kiss Liam forcefully, desperately. Liam listens, hears Brett's heartbeat thundering in his chest, feels drops of precome sliding down his dick and over his hand. He's close.

"You could pull my hair," he continues on, trying to stop his voice from shaking, but he's exhausted and it comes out rasping, wrecked. "Push me around. I wouldn't care. I'd like it."

"Liam," Brett groans.

"And maybe I wouldn't let you come in my mouth," Liam says, and holy crap, where is all this coming from, what the hell is he doing, "but I'd let you come on my face."

"Fuck," Brett moans.

Liam stops his speech, interrupted when Brett withdraws his fingers and comes back with only three, wondering what's going on until Brett seeks out that spot inside him like a heat-seeking missile and strokes it insistently. Liam hears his own breath hitch as it's stroked over and over again, with Brett's blunt, short fingernail, feels his cock swell up heavily against his stomach, his balls drawn tight. He's gasping for air so desperately he's starting to feel light-headed, feels Brett let up so he can catch his breath. Liam swallows and continues with what he was saying.

"But maybe I would let you come in my mouth," Liam whimpers, and Brett picks up the pace again, shoving in and out with his fingers pretty forcefully now, sucker-punching the air out of him when he hits his prostate every time. "I'd let you come in my mouth and I'd swallow it and I'd like that too."

"Fuck, fuck, Liam, I'm gonna-"

"Come on me," Liam pants. "Please."

Brett groans, locking eyes with him, and Liam trembles with anticipation - of Brett's orgasm, of how it feels to have his come striping his belly and chest. He wants this. He wants Brett to mark him, come on him-

"Liam," Brett growls, and his eyes flash. Liam looks down briefly, just in time to see Brett's cock spurt a long, thick string of come, hitting him right up to his collarbones. He whimpers - his own orgasm is racing towards him like an out-of-control train - as more warm splashes hit his stomach.

"Liam," Brett snarls, and something about it makes him turn his head sideways, exposing his neck, his pulse.

Brett lunges down, and Liam only has a moment to register the flash of fangs before they're sinking into the junction of his neck and shoulder.

He wails. And for a moment, that's all he knows; his own voice, wrecked and bellowing with release, clamping down and squeezing impossibly tight around the heavy, thick weight of Brett's fingers in his ass, the almost painful pulse of his cock as he comes all over himself, untouched. 

The fangs, in his neck, for the barest moment, before they withdraw. 

He shivers weakly, feels the fingers withdraw slowly, painlessly, leaving him empty. 

When he comes back to himself, Brett's hand is on his forehead and his tongue is lapping gently, almost remorsefully, at the bite on his neck. The soft rasp of it on his skin brings Liam back to the present again, and he swallows. 

"Hey," Brett murmurs.

"Hi." His voice is destroyed. 

Brett leans back to look at him. "You okay?" he asks, and Liam knows he's genuinely concerned. "I think you blacked out a bit, after I bit you. The food came. I brought it up."

Liam tilts his head. Sure enough, their food is sitting on his desk. 

"Liam?"

He turns back to Brett. "Sorry," he says. "For checking out I mean."

"I didn't hurt you?" 

Liam smiles drowsily. "Nope."

Brett laughs. "Okay. Good. I'm starving." 

Liam sits up, finds himself relatively clean and back in his t-shirt and boxers. "I cleaned you up," Brett says by way of explanation. "I've never seen anyone shake like that before. Thought you were cold or something."

"Thanks," Liam says. 

He's okay until Brett tugs his jacket on and leaves for the night - he wants Brett to stay, to sleep there, and even though he knows it won't keep the nightmares away, at least he won't be alone when he wakes up. But he says nothing, lets Brett leave because the guy already seems pretty set on going, and well, Liam already knows what it's like to be asked to do something and not be able to follow through, so he's not gonna beg Brett to coddle him. He already did that today, twice.

It's only later, as he's staring at his own face in the mirror, brushing his teeth, that he realises they never really resolved anything, doesn't know what Brett promising to be around more often means. Doesn't get any of it. 

He sighs, heads upstairs, resigned to having nightmares.  
 


	6. Six - Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 10k chapter from Liam's point of view. Couldn't help myself. Thanks for all the feedback you guys have been giving me, and for leaving kudos and bookmarking and commenting and reading! Hope you all enjoy this chapter <3

**Chapter Six - Weight**

**Liam's P.O.V**

Liam has a panic attack two nights after Brett was there, curled up in his shower with only his boxers on and with Mason desperately trying to call him out of it.

He's never had a panic attack before. Not really. Didn't even know what they were until Mason explains it to him later. But he's getting ready for the shower and suddenly he's feeling lightheaded and dizzy and like he can't breathe, and he thinks maybe the water will help, so he staggers under the stream and it's freezing, but he stays there, hoping it'll help with whatever this is the same way it does his transformations.

He doesn't really have a moment when he realises it isn't gonna stop, just know instinctively that it's not, that he's hyperventilating with walls closing in and gasping for air that doesn't seem to exist, and he's crying desperately and can't work out what's wrong with him-

And Mason chooses right then to barge into the bathroom, and Liam realises he's on the floor of the shower, must've collapsed, and Mason's getting under the spray with him and not even asking what's wrong, just gripping his shoulders tightly and trying to get him to breathe.

It takes a full ten minutes for Liam to finally start to calm down, feel like there's air in his world again. He's shaky and miserable as Mason stares at him, guilty as hell for scaring him like that - he can hear Mason's heart beating and knows he's freaking out - and tries weakly explaining, "I'm sorry, Mase, sorry, I'm okay, don't worry, it's fine-" and Mason just pulls him into a hug, holds him as close as he can.

"Dude," he says, "it's alright. It's totally cool. You okay? You wanna get out?"

He's so shaky Mason has to help him out of the shower, and only once he's dressed does the embarrassment settle in. Mason asks him if he's ever had a panic attack before. Liam says no, honestly, because he's never felt that close to hysteria before.

He tells Mason not to worry. Mason orders pizza and claims the left side of Liam's bed, inviting himself to stay the night, and doesn't even complain when Liam wakes up sweating and shaking with night terrors. Instead, he sets up the PlayStation and plays until Liam nods off on his shoulder.

Mason's an awesome friend. 

~*~

The next night is a pack meeting. Liam usually likes them, because they all end up crashed out in Scott's living room, and Liam sleeps pretty well surrounded by his pack. He usually wakes up to Malia spooning him ("you don't smell enough like us! You're easy prey for a predator!"), and Mrs. McCall usually makes pancakes the next morning, but lately he finds he just wants to be alone. 

Not to mention he never knows what's going on until one of the group finds him in school and tells him who's driving him - because Liam and Malia are the only two who can't. Liam turns sixteen soon, though, and then he can get his permit. 

It's normally Stiles who finds him, but today it's Kira, who tells him that she and Lydia will be taking him. Liam likes Kira; she's the one who's tried hardest to make him feel safe and comfortable, apart from Scott, that is, and she's nice to everyone. Even Stiles, who gets on everyone's nerves from time to time.

He doesn't know Lydia all that well. She's aloof a lot of the time, frighteningly smart, the ice queen of the seniors. She's warm, though, when she has to be. That's just not very often where Liam is concerned. She and Kira seem like they're good friends, but now and then Liam will hear someone say that nobody ever replaced Allison for her.

He wishes he could've met Allison, even though she probably would have scared him even more than Lydia sometimes does. Nobody talks about her much. Liam wants to ask, but the most anyone's ever told him was one night, after a pack meet, when Stiles said, "look, Liam, she wasn't just Scott's girlfriend. She was his first love. She was his anchor," and then Liam sort of got an idea of how painful it has to be to lose someone.

He hasn't been alive long enough or unlucky enough to experience something like that. Unlucky in other ways - he spent most of his pre-teen years dealing with his undiagnosed I.E.D and his father's impatience, then violence, learned as he grew up that stepping between his mother and father meant that his mother didn't have to get as many bruises. But his dad is out of his life now, and his step-dad has done a better job in three years than Liam's dad did in eleven. 

He shakes the memories out of his head - his therapist says it's not good to dwell on it right now - and heads out to Lydia's car when the bell rings to wait. 

He catches their scents before he sees them, Lydia's muted, sophisticated perfume, the strawberry-and-oranges scent of Kira's hair. Malia smells different from both of them; like the earth and the trees, whatever no-fuss soap she uses. 

Lydia and Kira are talking as they come towards him. The girls are both shorter than him, which is kind of nice considering everyone even his own age dwarfs him, never mind people older than him. He still feels a little awkward trying to make conversation with them, but they both try, like they know how nervous it makes him, even now, to be in a car with two senior girls. 

Lydia's driving. "Liam, do you mind if we stop at the mall?" she asks. "Nordstrom is having an amazing sale and we won't get to go after the meeting tonight."

Liam's nodding before she finishes. "That's okay with me," he says. "I guess I'll just... stop by Gamestop or something?" 

Lydia looks at him in the rear view mirror, and Liam shuffles forward, sticking his head between the two front seats to make it easier to talk over the radio.

"You should come shopping with us," Lydia says, and even though it's phrased as a suggestion Liam knows she's already made her mind up that that's what he's going to do. Kira gives him a pitying look.

"I'm okay," he says feebly.

"Liam, you can't keep wearing hoodies everywhere," Lydia says.

Liam pulls self-consciously at the red sweatshirt he's pretty sure he stole from Stiles. "Why not?" he asks defensively.

"Because they aren't a fashion statement," Lydia says. "We're all going."

Liam whines and rests his head on Kira's seat. "Lydia..."

"You want to impress Brett, don't you?" she asks smoothly.

"Lydia!" Kira admonishes. Liam's turned red enough to match his hoodie and leans back into his own seat, picking at his jeans.

"Who told you?"

Lydia tilts her head. "No one had to tell me, Liam," she says. "I just knew."

"And what about you?" he asks, turning to Kira. She at least looks guilty; Lydia looks smug about being right.

"I overheard you and Mason talking about it," she says. "I'm sorry, Liam." 

He covers his face with his hands. "Who else knows?"

"Just us," Lydia says. "I'm pretty impressed, actually, Liam. Brett could have anyone he wanted, and you're the one who managed to pull him."

"Lydia, you're embarrassing him," Kira says. "Why don't we just make this as quick and painless for him as possible?"

"Did you guys plan this?" Liam demands. "Did you conspire to take me shopping to impress Brett? I bet he doesn't care about my hoodies. Actually I bet he doesn't care if I'm wearing anything at all-"

"Okay!" Kira squeaks.

"Only dish the details when Brett tells you you can, Liam. Anything else is just inconsiderate," Lydia advises, putting the car in park. "Ready?"

Liam stares up at the Nordstrom sign, feeling defeated and sullen. "Yeah. I guess."

Lydia orders him to abandon his hoodie in the car, and he does, stepping out in just his jeans, shoes and navy blue v-neck. He slides his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable, as Lydia steps out of the car and begins stalking towards the centre.

"Do I have to?" he tries, one last attempt to not have to do this. Mason's been trying to get him to buy new clothes for months now but Mason doesn't have Lydia's terrifying focus or determination, so he's been met every time by the brick wall of Liam's stubbornness. 

Lydia turns to him. "Liam, you would look very, very palatable in a leather jacket," she says.

"I'm not dinner!" he yells after her.

"You will be when I'm done and Brett sees you," she calls, unconcerned, over her shoulder.

Kira wraps an arm around his shoulders as they trail behind Lydia, who's already listing the different things she's going to try to put Liam in. Much to Liam's dismay, it seems like a very long, comprehensive list, though Lydia may as well be speaking another language for all he understands what she's saying.

"Don't worry," Kira says. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

They're three hours late to the pack meeting.

~*~

Liam usually sleeps well at pack meetings, but tonight is different. He's restless, and every little noise a member of his pack makes is causing him to wig out completely.  
He sighs, gets up quietly, and picks his way over the sleeping bodies in the living room to get to the stairs. Once he's up them, he slinks into the bathroom and shuts the door quietly behind him, splashes his face with warm water, then sits down on the tiles to play games on his phone.

He doesn't know why he's feeling so detached and out of the loop where pack things are concerned. He knows they've been keeping things from him but maybe they're only doing it because he's younger, and not because Theo is in the picture. Liam knows logically that he's Scott's beta - his first - and that Theo can't take that away from him - but it stings to be out of the loop.

There's a knock on the door just as he's starting a new round of Candy Crush. He looks up, wondering nervously if he's woken someone up or if he's in trouble, and says, "yeah?"

The door opens and Scott's standing there in a pair of sweats and a wife beater, with his best concerned-alpha expression on his face. "Liam?" he asks softly. "What are you doing in here?"

Liam shrugs. "I couldn't sleep." That part, at least, is true. "I didn't want to wake anyone up." He really didn't; he spent almost five minutes wriggling out of the tangle of Malia's ridiculously long limbs. He's surprised she didn't growl him back into bed. She has before. Stiles tried explaining that growling at people to assert your dominance doesn't work the same way it does for coyotes, but Liam's not that sure it stuck, considering she still does it. "I mean," Liam adds nervously, because Scott hasn't said anything yet - and they all know this is how to get him to talk by now, by just not answering - "It's not like anyone's been sleeping well."

Scott smiles. "We wouldn't have cared."

"I know." And he does, really, so he doesn't know why he's hiding in the upstairs bathroom. Scott gestures to the spot next to him, and Liam says, "sure," before he thinks about whether or not he wants company.

Scott sits down next to him, and Liam's almost annoyed at himself for how calming that one action is. "Wanna tell me what's going on?" Scott asks gently.

He doesn't want to tell anyone what's going on, but particularly not Scott, who's got enough on his mind with the Dread Doctors and chimeras and Kira's fox trying to kill people of its own accord. He wants to ask Scott why he's being left out of the loop of information, but he knows that would just make Scott feel bad. And he promised Stiles that he wouldn't tell Scott what was happening and even though he thinks Scott should know, it's more important to him to keep his promise. 

"You know, I can smell him on you," Scott says quietly.

Liam whips around, finally looking at his alpha and staring. "What?"

"Brett." Scott's smiling again now that he's got Liam's attention. "I can smell him on you." 

Liam swallows. His game isn't distracting enough anymore, so he puts his phone away and folds his hands together in his lap, picking absently at his fingernails. He's not sure how to feel about seemingly everyone knowing about him and Brett. At least he doesn't have to tell them. 

Scott's hand lands on his shoulder. "Hey," he says, surprised when Liam jumps. "It's okay. We don't care, Liam. As long as he treats you well." 

Liam forces a smile. "Isn't that something my parents are meant to say?"

"Maybe, but I'm guessing you haven't told them either." Liam shakes his head. "Thought so. Besides, Liam, you're my brother. I don't care who you're with as long as you're happy."

That last statement is definitely a question, and one Liam can't answer without giving away how he really feels about what's going on, so he doesn't address it. Instead, he says, "who else knows?" 

"Everyone," Scott admits softly. "Except Theo."

"How come you didn't tell him?" Liam's searching here, knows it's obvious, doesn't care. He doesn't trust Theo. He can't pinpoint why; he just doesn't. There's something about the way he watches all of them that's unnerving.

"Nobody told each other either," Scott says kindly. "Malia and I could smell it, Lydia just knows this stuff, Kira overheard you and Mason talking, and Stiles has already planned out his death if he hurts you." 

"Should I warn him?" Liam asks weakly.

Scott laughs. "No. But seriously, Liam. We're happy for you. I know that..." Scott's voice takes on an inflection of guilt. "I know that we haven't been keeping you up to date," he admits. "But it's not deliberate, okay? You're just - you're kind of our pack baby, you know? We want you safe."

Liam scratches the back of his head. "Brett thought you didn't notice," he says.

"How could I not?" Scott wonders. "He scent marked you so well it was like he dumped a bottle of eu de Brett on your head. No, I knew. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. I thought you'd tell me eventually, but it seems to be wearing you down."

Liam shrugs. "That's not it," he says uneasily. "I've started taking my Risperdal again. It's messing with me. I'm not supposed to go on and off whenever I want to." 

"Why're you taking it again?"

Liam shrugs. He does a lot of things without really knowing why, driven by subconscious and sometimes masochistic desires. Going back on a drug that make him dizzy, tired and nauseous at the best of times and downright sick at the worst is just the tip of the ice berg. That doesn't cover the isolation he willingly puts himself in because he never learned a healthier coping method and frankly doesn't want to, or sleeping with someone he's not really sure will even like him or want him around one day to the next. 

He looks up when Scott's arm snakes around his shoulders and pulls him in, slowly, giving him a chance to refuse. He doesn't. He mightn't know where he stands with Brett but he knows where he stands with Scott, his friend, and Scott, his alpha, and he's immediately soothed and sedated by the action. He didn't realise how tired he was. Stiles' secret weighs him down, a blind spot in his reasoning, and everything converging on him makes him want to retreat into his safe little bubble of isolation and stubborn refusal of help. Asking for help means acknowledging he needs it and after that incident in the bathroom with Brett and then the panic attack, he's feeling torn down and weak and the only way he knows how to deal with it is to save face. 

"What're you thinking?" Scott asks curiously.

Liam looks at him. "Nothing," he lies, and it slips off his tongue as easily as water off a duck's back. 

Scott's brow creases. He knows Liam's lying and if he was pushier or a more aggressive alpha he could command Liam to tell the truth and Liam would, but he won't do that, and Liam knows it. He holds Scott's gaze until his alpha sighs and turns away. 

They sit there for a while, until Scott says softly, "you should sleep," and Liam snaps out of the doze he'd unwittingly fallen into on Scott's shoulder. He lets Scott lead him out of the bathroom, back downstairs, and to a spot in the middle of the pack, near Stiles and Malia. 

He lies down and lets Scott cover him up, on the brink of sleep when he hears Stiles hiss, "so? Do we have to knock Gigantor around a bit?" 

"Stiles," Scott sighs.

"What? I mean it's cute and all-"

"He's fine," Scott interrupts in a whisper. "He's just tired. Going through stuff unrelated to Brett. We don't need to kill anyone." 

Liam's stomach lurches because Scott doesn't know, he doesn't know and he feels Stiles tense but nothing else gives him away, and-

"Well that's probably a good thing," Stiles snarks, and Liam feels him rub a sweeping palm down his back. "Seeing as the Dread Doctors have death, dismemberment and terror kind of down pat."

"We don't know that they're _dismembering_ people..."

"Well, Scotty, I think we can take a pretty good guess." Stiles' hand on his back feels so good Liam pushes up into it. "Needy," Stiles grumbles. "Seriously. Is he okay?"

"He's alright. Just needs to sleep."

Stiles has been different with him since he told Liam, seems to be keeping him a little closer, talks to him more. At first the implication that he doesn't trust Liam was offensive, but now Liam knows that Stiles is just trying to repay the favour. He even texted Liam asking if he needed help with any homework, and he was nice about it. Liam ended up accepting, even if their interaction was somewhat awkward - Liam never forgets it when people insult his I.E.D and he remembers Stiles saying he was a ticking time bomb, knows now that sarcasm is Stiles' primary line of defence. He's trying to forget it. 

He catches the faintest scent of blood and knows it's Stiles' shoulder, wants so badly in that moment to tell Scott and help them fix whatever piece of the relationship is broken that it's the most distressing thing in his life right now, eclipsing his I.E.D and Brett and all the resurfacing memories of his bio-dad and getting drugged at Sinema, and Scott says, "Whoa, Liam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he croaks, and he feels Stiles rub his back harder, digging his thumb into a painful knot of tension right under Liam's shoulder blade, like he's trying to tell Liam that it's okay, that he's okay, but those are both lies. _Nothing_ is okay. 

The edges of Liam's senses catch Scott settling right beside him, close enough that Liam can feel his body heat. He forces his eyes open for a moment, just to look, listening to Stiles grumble and shift closer to him, still rubbing his back. 

Scott smiles. "Go to sleep, Liam."

So he does.

~*~

"You okay, dude?"

Liam blinks when Mason appears at his locker. "Uh huh," he responds automatically. 

Mason raises his eyebrows as Liam yawns widely. "Dude."

Liam shrugs. "I told you, I'm back on Risperdal."

"Oh yeah. Tired?"

Liam nods. "Kinda sick too," he admits. "Not bad, but I dunno. I feel pretty crap." He'd forgotten how awful the adjustment period for going back on his meds is. But if this is what it has to be - if this is what he has to do for everyone to be safe from the rage that eclipses even the best parts of him in an episode - then he'll do it.

Mason nods. "Hey, look, I've got a free," he says. "Go grab us a lunch table. See you there?"

Liam nods, bumps into a few people on his way out of the hallway, trying to get control of his yawning. He thought he read once that yawning was a response to the lungs not having enough air, but Liam's never yawned as much in his life as he does when he's taking his damn medication. 

He finds his and Mason's regular outdoor lunch table and sits, watching the crowd of Friday afternoon lunch hour mill around and picking at his sandwich. His appetite, along with his nerves, are fucking shot. He hasn't seen Brett in days, hasn't even heard from him, and he wonders if Brett got what he wanted and then left when things got too mushy. Liam wouldn't blame him. He had an episode - his gut twists at that because he'd been doing so well with them, broke an almost three month stretch of not having any - followed immediately by a mini-breakdown that Brett was essentially forced to deal with, because, well, Brett's not enough of an asshole to leave Liam crying in his bathroom with his parents halfway across the world. But that doesn't mean he wants to have to deal with it again. Liam's been dealing with it his whole life and he's still not doing it very well. 

The worst part of that is that _everyone_ knows he doesn't deal with it well. Mason, his mom and step-dad, Brett, his pack - they all know his only coping mechanism is to clam up and pretend nothing is wrong until he manages to convince himself it's true. They all know that the moment things require a little more emotional depth Liam shoots through and goes AWOL for days. If they've treated him like he needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap, it's because he's taught them to do it. 

The sound of other students milling around in background noise, and between the lack of sleep, the side effects of his anti-psychotics and everything else he's got going on, he starts to doze, head on his arms. The sound is comforting, like in daylight, nothing can hurt him. No one drugging him or trying to kill him, no Dread Doctors, no nothing.

"Hey."

Liam jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up, disoriented, blinking frantically and blearily. Once his vision clears, he sees Brett standing there.

Dumbly, he says, "you don't even go here."

A tiny frown creases Brett's eyebrows. "I know. But you do, and Mason's really worried about you. He called me."

"Mason called you?"

"Yeah. What's going on?" Brett sinks onto the chair across from him. Mason's a good friend, Liam thinks, but he also might have to kill him. 

Liam wouldn't know where to begin even if he had any intention of telling Brett, so he says, "Nothing." He takes a bite out of his sandwich, maintaining eye contact. Brett might have him twisted up and confused but he doesn't need to know that.

Brett's frowning, and Liam knows he was expecting Liam's heart to give his lie away, but Liam's been getting better at it now that Brett doesn't fluster him as much. How much can the guy really fluster him now that he's been knuckle-deep inside, after all?

"You know," Brett says slowly, as if trying to pre-emptively gauge Liam's reaction to what he's going to say, "I don't need wolf senses to know you're lying when you say that. You look wiped, Liam. What's going on?"

He is absolutely not going to admit to Brett that he had a panic attack or that he's still scared as hell to venture outside his house in case someone tries to drug and kill him, or that he has begrudgingly found himself liking Brett way more than he really wants to. So instead he says, "I told you, nothing. I'm fine."

"Oh," Brett says. "So fine for you means huge circles under your eyes and a complexion to rival someone who's been dead for a few hours?"

Liam snorts, but he can't come up with anything, and he's trying to hold his anger in check after the last time he blew up, so he says nothing. _Brett can't make me talk_ , he thinks moodily. _And maybe if I sit here long enough without saying anything, he'll just go away._

"Okay," Brett sighs. "You don't wanna talk to me, that's fine. Couldn't care less. But at least tell Mason what's going on. He's worried."

"He's always worried, he's Mason," Liam snaps. 

"Jesus, Liam," Brett snaps back. "He's just trying to help you."

"Let me guess - you both are?"

"Well, that's sort of the reason I hauled you around in Sinema, yeah!"

Liam flounders for words. Finally, he grabs his things, stands up, and begins to leave. Much to his irritation, Brett follows him. 

"What's your problem?" Brett demands. "You're acting like nothing happened between us-"

"And what did happen?" Liam snaps, continuing to stride away. "Please tell me. I'm really curious." 

"Oh, let's see - I made you come twice in twenty minutes with my fingers up your ass and you loved it. You told me you wanted to suck me off. Or are you referring to the other thing, where you lost it and I stuck around and helped out anyway?"

Liam doesn't have an answer for any of that, especially the first part - because he already knew it didn't mean much to Brett but he didn't exactly want it confirmed, either.

"Whatever," he says. _Good comeback, Liam._

Brett begins to honestly try to keep up with him, drawing level with him. "Fuck, Liam, seriously, what the fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing," Liam growls.

"I told you I meant to scent mark you!" Brett hisses, and Liam's angry that he has to walk so much faster just to keep ahead of him. Damn Brett and his stupidly long legs. "I told you that I wanted to, that it was to keep you safe-" Fuck, has Brett worked him out? Does he know?

"Not wanting me dead isn't the same thing as actively caring about me," Liam says huffily, and he's pretty sure that's the kind of stuff Mason would say in a situation like this. 

Brett growls, grabs his shoulder, and spins him around. "Fine," he snarls. "I _actively care about you_. I scent marked you because I don't want you to be with anyone else. I scent marked your entire bedroom, your house, because it didn't smell like your pack and any supernatural creature within a mile radius would assume you're an omega and I don't want you to die. I stayed at your house that night after Sinema because I didn't want you to choke on your own vomit and die, and I didn't want you to get worse. I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

Brett stops to swallow, and Liam's kind of in shock about all this. He doesn't know what to say, what to do, so he just stands there, staring.

"Why don't you believe me?" Brett demands.

The anger flares, full force, at that. "I don't believe you because you didn't give a shit about me at Devonford Prep," Liam spits. "You knew about my I.E.D before anyone else did because Coach told you, and he told you to watch out for it and you didn't. You used it against me. You let everyone else use it against me. You let them make me mad. You thought it was funny."

"Liam-"

"It wasn't funny to me!" Liam yells. "I was trying so hard to keep control of it and I knew every day that I went to school I was going to have an episode whether or not I was taking Risperdal because I knew you and your fucking cronies were going to provoke me into it, because you thought it was funny!"

"I didn't know." Brett sounds genuinely remorseful, his heartbeat doesn't falter, and his scent is heavy in the air, pained and guilty and distraught. "Liam, I didn't know. I knew we were teasing you but I didn't know how bad it was for you. If I had I would've done something."

"Done something?" Liam asks. "You were the one who started it all! I was okay until you found out! I was dealing with it!"

"Come on, Liam, we'll go somewhere and talk about it-" He reaches out to take Liam's elbow in his hand - a gentle touch that may otherwise be soothing if Liam weren't so pissed - but Liam wrenches his arm away. He doesn't want Brett to touch him or calm him down; he wants to get angry and let the rage spill caustic acid all over his life and relationships, because it's too fucking hard to keep a lid on anymore. 

" _You_ might have forgotten," Liam says, and he's chagrined at the sound of his own voice trembling, "but I haven't."

Saying it aloud makes him realise exactly what it is that's been bothering him; he wants Brett, everywhere, all the time, but he hasn't forgotten. He remembers how much his old team tormented him over his I.E.D, and there's an angry, wailing kid in him saying _I was only fourteen_ and _I was trying_ who's still spitting mad about it, who isn't over it, even if present-day Liam is absolutely down with anything and everything Brett wants from him.

He sighs. There's no fight left in him anymore. He doesn't want to keep talking circles around this. He doesn't want to talk to anyone about anything.

"Look," he says, "just leave me alone until you decide what you want from me."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just keeps walking. He waits to hear Brett's footsteps, his voice calling him back, but it never comes. 

Liam's got his answer.

~*~

He's doing a good job of distracting himself that night, ignoring texts and phone calls in favour of playing Mortal Kombat with the volume up as loud as his sound system can handle, when the doorbell rings.

He figures it's just salespeople or Jehovah's Witness or something (and he's not opening the door to any of that, because the last time he did he was too nice to tell them to go away and stood there awkwardly as they rambled about energy-saving lightbulbs and religion), so he ignores the bell and doesn't care if they hear his TV. They'll go away soon enough.

Except they don't. The bell rings and rings and rings, and finally, Liam gets fed up enough to go downstairs, intending to firmly tell them that he's not converting to whatever religion they're selling and doesn't believe in Armageddon and yes he's okay with going to hell, he probably is anyway since he's fairly sure no werewolf ever became an angel, but when he yanks the door open with his resolve steeled, it's only Brett.

The irritation burning in his stomach sputters and dies almost immediately. Brett looks guilty, and he's holding two pizza boxes and a bottle of Coke.

"I thought you were Jehovah's Witness," is the first thing out of Liam's mouth.

"Do you ever just say hi?" Brett asks. "And it's eight at night. Why would I be Jehovah's Witness?"

"... New marketing strategy?" Liam reasons weakly, trying to save face and not look quite as stupid. 

Brett snorts, and he even looks like he's fighting back a smile. "Look," he says, "you said to leave you alone until I'd figured out what I wanted from you-"

"And I meant it," Liam says heatedly, the irritation surging back to him.

"Let me finish," Brett interrupts smoothly. "I'm here to tell you that I'm sorry. I really am. For everything that happened at Devonford. You're right. I should've stepped in and helped you."

Liam swallows. He never thought he'd get an apology for any of it. Some little part of him goes quiet in the back of his head, placated by the apology. He doesn't know what to say, realises belatedly that he's got his teeth sunk into his lower lip, nibbling away frantically, and tries to stop. Brett's making eye contact with him, something Liam isn't good at or used to, but tries to maintain this time around anyway. It feels important. 

"I also know that your parents are still away and that you've probably been eating cereal for dinner," Brett continues. "So I asked Mason what your favourite kind of pizza is, and even if you decide to kick me out right now, this is still yours." He puts the boxes and bottle of Coke down on the side table near the door. "Whatever happens now is up to you. I just want you to know... I'm not gonna screw you around anymore, okay? Whatever you decide, I'm not going to screw you around."

Liam takes a moment, sort of stumped, very confused, about what's going on. This is his opportunity to kick Brett out, rage at him, get his own back, but there's no part of him, no matter how miniscule, that wants to do any of that. And Brett sounds sincere. Smells sincere, too, and nervous. Liam's not so good with chemo signals but he's good with those two, because between Scott wanting to be everyone's saviour and Stiles being constantly anxious and nervous, Liam couldn't not recognise them at this point. 

Brett really doesn't want to hurt him. The fact settles over Liam's brain like a blanket, sinking in slowly. He's not here because he wants to screw around, he's not here to get his own back, he's here to apologise and he means it. Maybe Brett never meant for things to get this mixed up. 

He feels Brett's hand on his wrist and realises he's been biting his fingernails in lieu of his lip. "Don't do that," Brett says. Liam allows him to tug the offending hand away, makes no move to shake Brett's hand off his arm. 

"I can't eat two pizzas by myself," he says, because he doesn't really know how else to say _I want you here, please stay._

Brett snorts. "I've seen you tear through two lunches, Liam," he says. "You definitely could. But if that's an invitation, I'll take it."

Liam feels the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and he stands back to let Brett in. He watches as Brett sheds his jacket and dumps his keys, then turns to face him with a soft smile.

"I was playing Mortal Kombat," Liam says. "I feel like it's probably your thing."

"I know. I heard," Brett responds. "For a second I thought you were fighting off a pack of attackers but it didn't sound like you." 

Liam grabs some plates and picks up the pizzas, balancing everything carefully in his arms. "I don't always eat cereal for dinner, you know," he says pointedly. "Sugar is bad for my I.E.D."

"Oh yeah?" Brett's walking pretty close behind him, his torso a solid wall of warmth, breath hot and damp against the back of Liam's neck. Liam swallows around the nervous lump in his throat; he can feel Brett's groin at his back when he steps to the top of the stairs and stops briefly.

Brett doesn't move, stands there passively with his warm weight bearing down on Liam's smaller body. His breathing is ruffling the back of Liam's hair, making it tickle, so he raises a hand to scratch it, balancing the plates and pizza precariously on one arm. 

He's just lowered his hand when Brett's palm closes over the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Liam lets his eyes slide shut. He _loves_ that spot, the way Brett strokes it and massages it and sometimes gives him a bit of a rough shake there. He doesn't know if it's just sensitive there or because it's Brett.

"Gonna stand there all night?" Brett's voice is low and teasing, his breath ghosting over the shell of Liam's ear.

Liam blushes furiously, and instead of answering, he steps away, nudges his bedroom door open and sets everything down on his desk. He flips open the boxes to find a meat lovers pizza and, sure enough, his favourite - double cheese, pepperoni, peppers, no anchovies, pineapple.

"I think Mason must have a file or something on me," Liam says, momentarily forgetting how flustered Brett makes him, even now. 

Brett snorts. "I wouldn't be surprised if he has one on everyone. He knows more about werewolves than I do." While he speaks, Liam lets his eyes ghost Brett's tall, slender frame. Wide shoulders and chest, narrow, tapered waist, muscular arms, long legs heavily muscled in the thighs. His eyes drift back up to find that Brett's watching him, clearly amused.

"Like what you see?" he asks.

Liam refuses to go down that road so he changes the topic. "Scott's file is probably the most extensive," he reasons, "because Scott's nice to him."

Brett lets it go. "Scott's nice to everyone. It's kind of freaky. Does he ever get mad?"

"Not that I've seen," Liam says.

"So he's never used his alpha powers on you?" Brett asks curiously.

Liam shakes his head. "He's like... stupidly level-headed," he says. "Stiles can go from anxious to angry to elated all in one minute and Scott's just always cheerful and always logical and calm. I guess one of them has to be."

Brett's giving him a long look. "But not lately?"

Liam looks at him sharply. "He's got a lot on," he says defensively, "but he's doing okay." Scott's been sort of absent but he was with Liam at the pack meeting and Scott's his alpha. Liam can't not defend him.

"Okay," Brett says softly. "Yeah, I thought I could smell him on you."

Liam fidgets. "He knows," he says.

"Yeah? What's he think?"

"He doesn't care as long as I'm happy. Actually everyone knows except Theo. Malia was the first to figure it out."

"Malia is the one I smell on you most, right?"

"Malia spent eight years as a coyote," Liam says. "She's kind of gotten better from what everyone's told me, but she's got basically no sense of personal space or boundaries. Scott at least has the decency to not point out that I smell like sex every time I see you, Malia asks me if it was good or not."

Brett laughs. Liam smiles at the sound. "And what do you tell her?"

Liam feels the flush starting up his neck. "Mostly I just stutter while she stares at me," he mumbles.

"Sounds like you."

He's not sure if he likes being teased or not, but the pizza is good, eating slices of it between rounds of Mortal Kombat - and Brett's pathetically bad at it. 

"So," Brett says, and Liam instantly knows he's about to get asked about something serious. He groans internally. He doesn't want to have this discussion. 

"Yeah?"

"What happened?" Brett asks softly. "Because I was texting Mason about you, and he wouldn't tell me anything, and then yesterday night he randomly calls me and tells me I need to talk to you because you're not doing so well. Something had to have happened to change his mind." 

Liam chews his pizza extra slowly, trying to postpone having to say it. If Brett really does want to be here he supposes he should start being honest and open, but it's hard. He's bottled everything up and kept it locked inside for so long he's not sure what to do now that release is an option for him. 

"I had a panic attack," he says finally. He tries to ignore the way Brett stops chewing, the way the air thickens with his concern, the way his heartbeat speeds up a little. Liam's aiming for nonchalant but Brett's making that difficult.

"A panic attack?" Brett clarifies slowly. 

"Yeah." Liam wipes his palms nervously on the thighs of his jeans. "I'd uh, never had one before. Mason was here. I didn't even know what was happening. So - I guess that's why he called you. I scared him, I think. I didn't mean to."

"Did you wolf out?" Brett asks softly.

Liam wishes Brett would touch him, even just lightly, on his knee or his shoulder, make it a tiny bit easier for him. He's getting that urge again, the one that wants him to clam up and go into lockdown mode until he's left alone, and he knows that being touched would combat it. "No," he says. "I don't think so."

"So... do you know what triggered it?"

Liam shakes his head. Finally, Brett puts a hand on his upper thigh, near his hip, kneads the muscle there gently. It relaxes Liam enough to keep him talking - visibly, if Brett's expression giving way into sympathy is any indication. He shifts a little closer to Liam, enough that Liam can feel his body heat. 

"I don't know. I mean, there's the Dread Doctors and chimeras, my I.E.D has been getting worse because I'm metabolising the anti-psychotics faster now that I'm a werewolf, I'm pretty sure I'm failing history, and um, I've been sort of stressed about all this-" He gestures vaguely between them. "Plus the pack... I don't know, Theo wants into the pack and I don't trust him and neither do Stiles or Malia but Scott, well, Scott wants to give him a chance but..."

Brett says nothing, but keeps massaging his leg. Liam closes his eyes, focussing on the sensation. Brett's deepening the massage and it's getting into all the keyed-up, tense areas of Liam that have never been touched before, let alone by someone like Brett, who means to him what Brett does. 

"I was just getting ready to shower," he says. "I turned the water on and I was starting to feel really lightheaded and dizzy and I thought maybe it was the Risperdal - sometimes it does that - but then I was having trouble breathing as well, so I thought getting under the water might help. It does when I'm having an episode. Anyway, I got in there but I still couldn't catch my breath, and when Mason came in I was on the floor of the shower so I guess I fell or something. He must've heard me." 

"He was pretty worried," Brett agrees quietly. "When he called me. He seemed to think I'd be able to help. I'm sorry I didn't sooner."

"You didn't know," Liam says blankly. "I never tell anyone anything, so it's sort of my fault."

"But you're okay now?" Brett asks. "You know, you haven't had one since then?"

"No. I haven't been thinking about it. But I don't know what caused the first one so I'm kind of worried about that, I guess, that it might just happen randomly and I won't be able to control it. What if it happens at school, or when I'm on the bus home, or when I'm playing lacrosse? Or when someone needs me?"

Brett twists so he's facing Liam. "If it does," he says, "call me. Okay? I won't make fun of you. They suck. I don't want you to ever go through something like that alone."

Liam feels a blush creeping into his face. He'll probably never call anyone if it happens again just because, well, how inconvenient is that for them? But he appreciates the thought of Brett looking out for him, trying his best, now that he's decided to try at all, to help Liam with the endless myriad of negative crap that's infiltrated his life.

He eats another slice of pizza, and Brett seems pretty content to let him do that for a while. Then he clears his throat and says, "I used to have them too."

Liam looks up. "Panic attacks?" He can't imagine Brett ever breaking the way he did in his bathroom, in his shower. 

"Yeah. After my parents died. The fire was set by hunters. Even after Satomi took us in, I was convinced that the hunters would come back to finish the job. Now it just makes me mad. We weren't hurting anyone. We were kids." 

Liam wonders what the lifespan of a werewolf is. Come to think of it, most of them seem pretty young. Satomi is the oldest he knows of. He feels a shiver of nerves at that, wants to believe that Scott will protect him, but doesn't know if that will hold true much longer - if it can. He knows Scott wants to protect them all but maybe he just can't and it's unavoidable that they'll fall through the cracks. Liam knows for sure he definitely doesn't have time for all of Liam's issues. 

Brett must know what he's thinking, because he says, "Things are different now, Liam. There haven't been hunters local to this area since the Argents, and even they didn't go after innocent werewolves. Well, one of them did, but she was acting independently of her family. Plus, there are two alphas in the area. People know Satomi and Scott are allied."

Liam nods. "How do you deal with it?" he asks Brett.

Brett shrugs. "I don't know any different." 

"So you... always knew how to control it?"

"I didn't have as much trouble as a bitten werewolf," Brett says, "but some full moons are harder than others." He takes a bite of pizza, swallows, and says, "How're you doing with it?"

"I still have trouble," Liam says ruefully. "Not a lot, but enough. Satomi's mantra helps. So does pain. But I haven't really found an anchor yet."

"No anchor?" Brett asks curiously. "How come?"

"I... can't hold onto anything," Liam says. "I tried to use Mason but that didn't work, and I tried thinking about my family and that didn't work either. So I guess I just haven't found my anchor yet. I'm doing okay anyway." 

Brett nods. "You'll find one."

"Scott said that one of the betas he used to know, Isaac, used anger as an anchor," Liam says. "But I don't think that'll work for me. I mean I take drugs just to be less angry." 

"That's..." Brett puts his slice down. "Look," he says. "I gave you a lot of shit - we all did - but your anger is different from anyone else's. You can't control it. So don't beat yourself up or anything."

Liam thinks that this is probably Brett trying to be nice to him without directly being nice to him, but he can't quite wrap his head around the idea. He really wants to kiss him - to taste him and feel his mouth and smell his scent, closer, at his pulse point where it's strongest, and know that he's secure, now, that if Brett does disappear for a few days he's allowed to want to know where he is. 

He's not exactly sure if they're, well, going out. If Brett's his boyfriend. Brett's almost two years older than him and Liam feels like that should drive some kind of wedge between them, but so far it hasn't. 

He leans in close and kisses Brett, hesitantly, because even after getting sucked off and finger-fucked to within an inch of his life, he's not sure if this is allowed. He wants it to be. He doesn't want to be as nervous as he is, hopes the action comes off as more confident than he feels even if his scent gives him away.

Brett kisses him back, slow and gentle like they haven't so far, his hands snaking up to hold Liam at the top of his ribcage, just under his arms, bracketing his chest. Liam sighs; the touch feels like it's deliberate in the way it soothes him, like Brett knew that slotting his fingers into the gaps between Liam's ribs would keep him grounded. 

Liam isn't sure what part of Brett he wants to touch - he's spoiled for choice, after all; all of Brett is pretty fucking hot. He decides on Brett's face with one hand, pressing his thumb into the soft skin between Brett's jaw and earlobe, feels the slight scratch of recently-shaved stubble against his palm. His other hand settles on Brett's waist. 

Brett shifts slightly, using the position of his hands to encourage Liam to rise to his knees, pulling Liam until he swings one leg over to rest on Brett's other side, putting him square in Brett's lap. This, at least, makes him a little bit taller, lets him get closer to the incredible heat of Brett's body. He puts his inexperience aside and lets himself relax fully, sitting down - Brett doesn't seem to care if he's inexperienced, after all. He loves the sensation of Brett's pelvis and thighs between his own legs, the way it warms up his inner thighs when he gives a slow, deliberate squeeze, the sound their jeans make when they shift against each other. 

He prods his tongue at the seam of Brett's lips, hesitant, but he's given instant access and starts exploring tentatively. He's never done this before, so it's new to him and he hopes it isn't too wet or anything for Brett. He also sort of hopes Brett takes over soon, because he's not sure what else to do. 

Brett makes a soft noise into his mouth, his teeth nipping at Liam's lips when his tongue withdraws. Liam's got other plans; he shuffles up so they're closer, pressed stomach-to-stomach, and noses at the juncture between Brett's jaw and his neck. Brett tilts his head, letting out a soft sigh.

Brett gets to scent Liam all the time, so why shouldn't Liam get the chance? The throb of Brett's carotid artery beneath his nose is comforting, steady.

He hesitates, but only for a moment, before kissing it gently. The skin is salty, bitter where Brett's aftershave has touched. Liam gets lost in the heady scent until he hears Brett murmur, "If you're looking for this to go further, you're going the right way."

Liam pulls away slowly, because he doesn't want it to, not tonight, and he'll get plenty of time to explore that area later on. Brett smiles at him, puts his hand on the back of Liam's neck, gives him an affectionate shake. Firm, but not rough, the way Liam likes it.

"Getting braver," he teases.

Liam flushes spectacularly. "A little. I'm probably not any good."

"It was great," Brett says. "I like kissing you." 

Liam leans down to begin again, but Brett leans back, smiling.

"I'm glad you decided to share the pizza with me," he says.

"Me too."

Liam notices he's still sitting on Brett's lap, which he'd honestly completely forgotten, his knees bracketed firmly around Brett's hips, that Brett is holding his waist with both hands, and blushes a little. "I um," he says, "I have to shower." 

Brett's smile widens, like he knows Liam's looking for a way out without being awkward and is going to let it pass without teasing him. "Okay." 

Liam wriggles away, stands up, flails briefly as he tries to work out whether he's meant to get undressed here or in the bathroom.

Brett outright laughs at him. "What's wrong? Did you forget how to undress?"

"Um," Liam provides helpfully.

Brett shakes his head, still chuckling, as he rises to his feet. He steps into Liam's space confidently, puts his hands on the hem of Liam's baseball t-shirt and begins lifting it up. Liam raises his arms, heart racing. He turns his head, searching for something to look at that might somehow magically cure his blushing. 

"Cold?" Brett smirks.

"Huh?" 

Brett reaches up and pinches his nipples, which Liam now realises are rock hard. The spark that races through his chest catches him off-guard, and he hears himself gasp. He wants to look at Brett reproachfully but he's pressing the pads of his thumbs into the hardened nubs of Liam's nipples and it feels kind of great so all he can really do is stare up at him. 

Brett lets him go as quickly as he had been to grab him, unbuttons and unzips Liam's jeans, no fuss, and pushes them down until Liam's boxers are poking out of the top. "I think you can handle the rest," he teases.

Liam knows he's blushing from the chest up and nods. "Yep." He steps out of his jeans but leaves his boxers on as he heads for the bathroom. He's half hard, wonders absently if he should get himself off or just ask Brett. 

He steps under the spray and wraps a hand around himself, leans against the wall, letting the water run over his hair and remove all the gel in it. His orgasm's over quickly but it's intense, leaves his thighs shaking and heart racing. 

He wonders if Brett will be able to tell what he did. When he steps out in a towel, hair dripping, and Brett smirks, he gets his answer. 

He heads for his drawers but Brett stops him. "I found something for you already," he says, nodding at the bed.

Liam gives him a curious look but goes to the bed. There's a pair of his boxers on it, and a shirt he's never seen in his drawers before. He reaches to pick it up.

Brett's scent overpowers his nose. "This is yours," he says.

"I know." Brett's eyes are challenging him. "I like it when you smell like me."

Well, Liam likes smelling like Brett too, so it's a win-win for both of them. He drops his towel, pulls the boxers on, and then tugs on the shirt. It's too big for him, especially around the shoulders and arms, but he doesn't mind. 

"What is wrong with you?" Brett asks. "You didn't even dry off properly."

Liam blinks. "I never do." Is that weird? 

Brett scoops up the towel and begins rubbing Liam's hair vigorously. "You'll get sick," he mutters.

"I can't get sick," Liam points out. 

"You're _wet_ ," Brett complains. "You can't go to bed wet either." 

"Why?" Liam asks, irritated.

Brett squints at him. "Because it's uncomfortable?" He drops the towel. "Mind if I shower?"

"Go ahead." Liam squashes the annoying flicker of hope that Brett's staying the night at that; he probably just wants to be clean after one hell of a day. "I'll get you a towel."

Liam doesn't ask Brett to stay that night, but when he comes back from disposing of the pizza boxes, the covers are flipped back on his bed and Brett's already gotten in on the side Liam doesn't sleep on, and is watching him expectantly. His shirt is off, and Liam doesn't let his eyes sweep down in the way he wants to, because that'll make him blush and blushing will get him teased. 

"You're staying," Liam says, surprised.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Brett questions softly. Liam lets himself look, now, because Brett doesn't seem to be in the mood to tease him anyway. Brett's got broader shoulders than him but a narrower waist. Liam can't work if his interest in Brett's muscle tone is anatomical or sexual.

"Liam?"

"Yeah," Liam says hurriedly, strips off his shirt and climbs into bed in just his boxers. He's reaching over to turn off the light when Brett stops him.

When Liam looks back, Brett's face is twisted up into an expression that takes Liam a moment to place, mostly because he's never seen it on Brett's face before - worry. "What's wrong?" he asks, turning to face Brett properly.

"I want to find out who drugged you," Brett says.

Liam suppresses his body's urge to flinch, because that's one of the things he's been trying desperately not to think about. He doesn't want to think about what might've happened to him if he hadn't managed to find Brett - if Brett hadn't been at Sinema that night, or hadn't realised something was wrong with him.

He's not dumb. He knows it could've been bad, already was bad. There are gaping black holes in his memory - mostly, he remembers finding Brett in Sinema, and then being in a bathroom, but knows there's a whole ten-minute passage of time in there missing that Mason told him about. He remembers Brett's fingers in his mouth, the sharp, lingering taste of salt and alcohol on his tongue, being too groggy and drugged to fight him off, not understanding that Brett was trying to help him. 

After that, things start to clear up a bit; he gets sick, gets most of the poison out of him, gets carried to the car. It's pretty blank from there on out. He thinks, maybe, he remembers a conversation with Brett and Mason kneeling beside him, remembers thinking that they were dumb for being on their sides the way they were. 

"I don't remember," Liam says finally.

"I know you don't. But whoever drugged you knew what you were and the exact dosage to give you to make you sick but not kill you." Brett shakes his head. "I want to find out who did it. Chances are they aren't done yet."

Liam gnaws at his lip, a bad habit when he's stressed. "You think they'll try again?" he asks, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

Brett sighs. "I don't know," he says. "Probably. Even if it's not you they might do it to someone else. But I want to know why. Because whoever it was didn't want to kill you." 

"How do you know?" Liam protests. "I've had at least three different people try to kill me in less than a year. Maybe they just got the dose wrong."

Brett's hand is on the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Liam doesn't know when it got there. "Can you try now?" Brett asks softly. "To remember?"

Liam doesn't want to have another panic attack - that was genuinely one of the worst things his own brain has ever done to him and he's been through the wringer where his misbehaving hormones are concerned - but he also wants to know who did it. At least that way he can avoid them.

"I can try," Liam says. "But my memory is pretty fuzzy, Brett. I mean, between leaving Mason with my drink and finding you, there's nothing."

Mercifully, Brett leaves his hand where it is, even though Liam is getting the impression, slowly, that Brett, outside of sex, isn't a hugely affectionate person. That's okay with him. He's not either, really. He likes casual touches like this, though. 

"Want me to jog your memory?" Brett asks. 

Liam nods.

"Alright. When we spoke to you that night you said when you went into the bathroom, there was another guy there. You couldn't tell us what he looked like, though. Just that when you left your head and stomach were beginning to hurt."

Liam searches his memory desperately, going slow, taking his time. He remembers the sudden brightness of the bathroom, the muted sounds of the music in the background. He sees the shadow of the man on the floor before he sees anything else. 

Everything starts blurring around the edges, then, and Liam's never really experienced this - normally, when he can't remember something, it's just a blank spot, but this is different. It's like his brain is actively trying to stop him from remembering the details. 

"Liam?"

Liam rubs his eyes. "I'm trying."

"I know." Brett looks troubled. "Your heartbeat is..."

Liam can feel it, now that he's paying attention - his heart is beating faster than usual, and he can feel a thin, sticky film of cold sweat starting on his face and neck. 

"The guy was older than me," he says. "But not really that much taller." He doesn't know how he knows that or why it came back to him. "I don't remember his face, though. At all. I know I saw it, I just don't remember it."

"Did he give you anything?"

Liam's shaking his head before Brett is even done talking. "I wouldn't have taken it," he says. "I hate being in Sinema. Ever since Lucas, it makes me nervous. I wouldn't have taken anything." 

Brett nods. "You know," he says, "taking you back might jog your memory a bit. If the memories are repressed, being in the same environment could unearth them." 

Liam nods, but his body feels wound up just thinking about having to go back there. 

"Hayden's friends with Mason, right?" Brett asks, sensing Liam's trepidation. "Maybe she can get us in before it opens. If she could, we'd be able to go back without it being dangerous." 

"It's Beacon Hills," Liam protests. "Everything is dangerous."

Brett gives a short, mirthless laugh. "Less dangerous, then. You don't have to, Liam."

"What about Scott and Satomi?" Liam asks. "Isn't there a way they can get into my memories? Figure out what happened?"

Brett looks worried again. "As far as I know, Scott hasn't ever done that," he says. "It can be risky if you don't know what you're doing - digging your claws in too deep can cause permanent damage. I'm not sure Satomi would unless it was the only option - unless she had to." 

Liam nods, but he's already thinking about how to get Scott to do this. 

"Liam," Brett says warningly. "Don't run off and do something without talking to me or Mason first, okay? Look, we think that whoever drugged you, they probably gave you something to make you forget. You said yourself that you wouldn't take something and you'd smell wolfsbane or mountain ash in your drink, so they must've held you down and given it to you another way."

"Like... a needle?"

Brett nods slowly. "Probably," he says. "Would've had to be fast to avoid other people noticing." 

Liam nods.

"Don't worry," Brett says. "I'll help you work it out. Then we'll find them and kill them."

Liam looks up, alarmed. "Scott said you were from a Buddhist pack," he points out. 

Brett shrugs. "Some of us are more Buddhist than others."

Liam tries to suppress the smile forming on his face, but he can't help it. Brett knows how to make him laugh.

He reaches over to turn the light off, feels Brett lie down beside him. "Go to sleep, Liam," he says, and Liam feels his eyes drifting shut, almost like it was a command from an alpha and not a suggestion. 

He rolls onto his side, pressing his face into the cool cotton of his pillow, lets out a sigh. After a moment, he hears Brett shift too, closer to him. He doesn't think anything of it until Brett slings a heavy, muscular leg over his hip and waist, anchoring him securely to the bed. 

He doesn't spoon Liam properly, doesn't wrap his arms around him or nuzzle into the back of his neck, but Liam's okay with that. He savours the weight of Brett's leg over him, inner thigh pressed into the muscles lining Liam's sides, Brett's pelvis pressed into his butt and lower back, and he feels secure. 

"G'night, Li," Brett mumbles sleepily.

It's the first time Brett's ever called him that, the pet name Mason has been calling him since they first met as kids. He doesn't mind.

"Night, Brett."


	7. Seven - Galvanise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have 13k of Briam. Thanks so much for continuing to read! I love the feedback you guys give me and I'm trying to incorporate it with the story! Thanks for all the kudos, comments, views and bookmarks. Hope you guys enjoy! <3

**Chapter Seven - Galvanise**

Brett wakes in the middle of the night, thirsty.

There's moonlight spilling into Liam's room, and it illuminates almost everything in an eerie-half light. Liam is facing away from him, splayed out on his side, duvet tangled around his thighs loosely. Brett wonders if Liam always sleeps like he's too exhausted to move. 

He's been trying to work out who drugged Liam at Sinema, but it's hard. Liam had other peoples' scents all over him that night, where he'd brushed against people, and it was hard to isolate any one. Whoever it was didn't get the chance to act upon his vulnerability. 

Liam's vague, foggy memories don't help him much, either. The only thing that may help is that the man was taller than Liam, but Liam's not exactly huge. In fact, he's on the shorter side, so someone taller than him could be anyone. 

There are a few people Brett's considered. Two men who sat at the bar all night, but didn't order anything and didn't dance. One twenty-something guy who lingered near the back room. But Brett wasn't paying attention, didn't know Liam was there until he was _right there_ , so he can't say for sure. If he could just figure out how it was slipped to Liam - was it a pill or a liquid? Was it in a drink or some food? Why didn't Liam smell it? He might find some answers. 

He doesn't want to press Liam, though. Watching him have a breakdown a few nights ago was bad enough, let alone finding out that Mason had to yank him out of the shower in the midst of a panic attack. It took Brett almost twenty minutes to get Liam to come back to him and stay there, and even then, he was shaking and emotional. 

His stomach roils thinking about it, about the role he played in it - and it's undeniable that he did. With so many stressors in Liam's life, half of which Brett is sure he's not being told about, he's got to factor in somewhere. 

He rubs his eyes, listens as Liam gives a low, frightened whine in his sleep. His nightmares aren't exclusive to feeling the effects of a drug, Brett's learned; they're fairly normal.

But this time, Liam isn't burning up with a fever and really, he knows Liam's body pretty intimately by now, so he doesn't feel bad about rolling onto his side, sliding his hands around Liam's hips and pulling him in to rest snugly against his own pelvis and torso. 

Liam settles down a bit, but not as much as Brett would like. He rubs Liam's back absently.

The guilt is overwhelming tonight. He never thought he'd feel guilty for sleeping with someone, but he does. Or maybe it's not that - maybe it's that Liam thought it was something more and Brett dragged it out. And even though they're okay now, Brett knows he put Liam through shit he wouldn't ever want to.

The image of Liam trembling under his arm after having a small breakdown flashes back to him. Brett called him back from that, didn't he? He stayed, even though he was freaking out over it. He couldn't have left. He's never seen anyone look that lost before. And Liam didn't start to come out of it until Brett called him back, so if he had left, who knows what would have happened?

"Stop thinking," Liam grumbles sleepily.

"One of us has to," Brett shoots back, more from force of habit than actually meaning it.

"Dick," Liam retorts, but the effect isn't quite as good when he's shuffled over to paw sleepily at Brett's arm. Brett isn't sure what he wants, but he decides Liam can have it after he gets his drink.

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, and drinks straight out of the tap, then stares at his reflection in the mirror.

Who was that guy in the bathroom? Who did Liam see?

He adds those to the never-ending list of questions he's got about everything and then heads back to the bedroom. Liam's dozing, but moves when he feels the bed dip. It's warm out, maybe too warm for contact, and the most Liam does is tangle his ankle with Brett's. 

Brett listens to the soft noise of Liam's breathing getting deeper and heavier, tries to let it lull him into sleep. When that doesn't work, he moves a little closer, enough to watch the pulse in Liam's throat throb.

He watches it until his eyes are too heavy to keep open, then lets himself slip quietly into sleep. 

~*~

When he wakes, Liam's rolling on top of him - wet - and saying, "it's Saturday, we should do something."

Brett groans, fisting his eyes sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Eight."

"You woke me up at eight on a Saturday?" He cracks an eye open, finds Liam damp from a shower, his hair wet and spiky and his eyes alert. "What is wrong with you?"

Liam pillows his head on his arms. "I'm not tired."

"I am," Brett grumbles, yanking the duvet up around him. 

There's a long pause, and Brett's almost drifted back to sleep when something huge and heavy lands on him, forcing the air out of his lungs. He realises a split second after he feels fingers digging into his ribs that it's Liam, apparently not content with letting him sleep. 

"You really wanna play this game, Dunbar?" he laughs breathlessly, then manages to find Liam's sides and flip him over, slamming him into the mattress. Liam struggles, spitting curses and laughing, putting his knees on Brett's chest to hold him away. The kid's got a lot of power in his shortstack 5'5" frame.

"Okay," Brett laughs. "You've got my attention. I'm awake."

Liam smiles at him, disarmingly open and friendly, no hint of hostility or guardedness. Brett's not prepared for that, so he's glad when Liam says, "I win." 

"Only 'cause I let you," Brett says. 

Liam smirks. "Sure." He rolls off the bed and heads to his closet, a cage standing against the wall near his bed. Brett watches him go, watches the muscles move beneath his skin.

Liam's pretty hot. They didn't do anything last night other than kiss, which is unusual for Brett, but he doesn't mind so much with Liam. For Brett, one night stands and hookups in Sinema or the Jungle have been about touch and intimacy, and it's just easier to go for a home run instead of investing in someone. At least he expects not to ever see his Sinema hook ups again.

Brett sits up in bed, grabs his phone from Liam's nightstand. Liam's pulling on a flannel shirt in the meantime, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Brett eyes him curiously.

"What's that?"

"Huh?"

"The shirt. Never seen you dress like that." He stands up and saunters over, tugging a little on the collar. He wrinkles his nose as the factory scent of the shirt wafts up to him, feels the way the brand new material bends stiffly in his grip. 

"Oh." Liam blushes faintly. He's doing the same thing he did last night, when Brett flustered him - turning to look at something else in the room, arms hanging nervously at his sides, unnaturally still. Brett admires his profile. "Last week Lydia and Kira took me to the pack meeting... Lydia wanted to stop at the mall on the way. And then she turned me into a dress-up doll for three hours and we were all late."

"And where did you get the money?" Brett teases.

"I get an allowance. When I don't know what to do with it I just kind of forget it's there. Lydia said I needed new clothes anyway, and that... well, she said something about hoodies not being a fashion statement and that I needed to class up or something." 

"You do own a lot of hoodies," Brett points out.

"They're versatile and practical!" Liam says, so defensively and quickly Brett thinks he must have said it before. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Mason's proud of me." He turns away, rifling through his draws, muttering, "I don't know why. It's not like I chose anything."

"Is Mason your benchmark or something?"

"He's emotionally in touch with himself and also doesn't need someone to dress him for him to look good, so yeah. Kind of. I mean, every time we went to Sinema he just went through my whole closet and dressed me."

"So that's why you looked so good," Brett grins.

"Shut up." Liam laughs him off, and Brett watches him pull jeans on over his boxers, find a pair of Converse, then grab his wallet, shoving it into his back pocket.

Brett steps into his space again. He can tell by the grip of the jeans around Liam's waist that Liam definitely didn't pick them out and that they're also brand new.

He pushes Liam down on the bed, ignoring his indignant, "Hey!" and rolls on top of him.

"Lydia picked all these, didn't she?" he asks.

Liam's blushing furiously. "Yeah. She did. She kind of just shoved me into a changing room and made Kira stand guard while I tried things on. Don't they fit?"

Brett strokes Liam's sides over the flannel shirt he's wearing. He fits two of his fingers into Liam's jeans, near his hips, and gives him a little tug there, admiring the contrast of the new, unwashed blue denim against the light gold of Liam's skin. "They fit perfectly," he murmurs. "You look great." 

"Thanks." Liam's blushing and flustered, one of Brett's favourite ways to have him. "So... are you gonna let me up or...?"

"Or." Brett leans down to nose at Liam's collar. "You smell like a factory." He looks up at Liam, smirking. "I'm gonna fix it."

"Only you can tell," Liam mumbles.

"Me and every other werewolf." He lifts his head. "Don't you like smelling like me?"

"If I did, I think it's a bit late to point it out," Liam says dryly. 

"True." 

"She wanted to put me in - in all these shirts that were really form fitting and tight," Liam whines as Brett moves in closer. "And I know she's Lydia and she's the queen of fashion and all that but I don't do form-fitting. That's why I like hoodies. They're comfortable."

"So how'd you get out of wearing form fitting stuff?" Brett asks.

"I didn't really," he mutters. "She made me buy a bunch of t-shirts that are tight but Kira told her that sending me to school looking like an Armani model is going to make people tease me and that it didn't suit me anyway. Lydia said I'd never look like a model because I'm not tall enough-" Brett desperately snorts back a laugh, earning him a disgruntled look from Liam "-and Kira wanted to dress me "grunge" and Lydia wanted to put me in button-up shirts and this was the compromise." 

Brett's laughing by the end of Liam's story. "It sounds traumatic," he chuckles. "Next time I'll take you. You'll get an unbiased opinion from me."

"You don't care if I'm wearing anything at all," Liam points out. 

Brett bats his eyes. "Is it that obvious?" He rolls off Liam when he pushes at Brett's shoulders. "What else did you get?"

Liam rolls off his bed - Brett watches, satisfied with the fit of the jeans and reminding himself to thank Lydia when he sees her next - and opens his closet door. At the bottom are three bags, all from different stores, all nearly overflowing.

"Wow," Brett says.

"I know," Liam mumbles. "I'm probably never going to wear all of them. We were three hours late to the pack meeting."

"Three hours?" Brett demands.

"Yeah. She didn't just make me buy them, she made me try them all on, together, in different outfits - and somehow she walked out with three bags as well and I don't know where she found the time but she did. I'm so glad Kira was there."

Brett paws through the bags curiously. He's so used to Liam wearing hoodies, the same faded pair of jeans and t-shirts that it's hard to envision him in anything else. He's pleased by what he sees - a range of colours and fits and styles of everything imaginable - and turns to Liam.

"Never mind. You can keep shopping with Lydia. She's got good taste."

Liam looks so thoroughly betrayed Brett laughs. He pulls Liam until he comes back to the bed, lies on his back, and waits for Liam to screw up the courage to lie against him. When he does, Brett pushes his shirt and tank up and digs his fingertips into the dimples on Liam's back. 

Liam relaxes against him, near-boneless, his eyes closed as he hums in pleasure. Brett dips below the waistband of his jeans, stroking the soft skin there, right at the top, where the swell of Liam's ass begins.

"Is this a sensitive spot for you?" Brett teases.

Liam squirms lazily against him. "It's all sensitive when it's you touching it," he murmurs. "But yeah, it feels really nice."

"Nice-erogenous or nice-relaxing?" Brett asks.

Liam rocks his pelvis against Brett's thigh, between his legs, and Brett feels his semi-hard dick grind against his leg. His movements are still slow and languid, like he can't really be bothered putting in the effort. "Both." 

Brett switches to his knuckles, presses them in so deep he feels Liam's muscles groan at his touch, a few knots in his spine giving way to the pressure. If Liam was relaxed before, he's melting now, boneless and incapacitated where he's lying on Brett. He's stopped moving entirely; the only indication he's even awake is the way he's rhythmically breathing, in time with the press of Brett's hands.

"I dreamed about you last night." Liam's voice is low and crackling. He's warm, his hair tickling under Brett's chin, standing up every which way.

"Yeah? What about?" Brett's distracted, honestly trying to work out the kinks in Liam's spine now. He doesn't know how the force he's using doesn't hurt. 

"You were fucking me," Liam says.

Brett's movement stutters, because what the hell is he meant to do with that? Liam's eyes raise to his, sheepishly, but soft with want.

"I want you to," he mumbles. "Sometime. Not now. But sometime." 

"I will." Something in Liam's eyes changes at that, significantly more heated. "I want to." He vaguely wonders what he's doing. Because he came here last night wanting Liam to be in his life, wanting to apologise and mean it even if Liam had decided he wasn't worth it, and he still wants to figure out who drugged him.

There's something nervous and clawing in his head, though, and he thought it would be easier to date a werewolf - at least he knows Liam can protect himself - but something about it feels harder, more dangerous. Because Liam might be able to protect himself but there's more of a chance he'll actually have to, and Brett's really not ready to lose anyone else.

"Brett?"

He blinks. Liam's staring at him.

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you wanted breakfast... twice." Liam's rolling his hips again, but the movement is so slow Brett can't read any intention behind it. "Not that this isn't nice," Liam says, "but I'm hungry. So... breakfast?" 

Brett rolls onto his stomach. "I guess," he says. "Do I have to get up?" He misses Liam when he rolls away and stands up, readjusting his clothes.

Liam shoots him a look. "Yes," he grumbles. "I'm not your damn maid." 

"That'd be pretty cute, though. You in a maid outfit."

Brett wasn't aiming for the neon blush that races into Liam's cheeks and ears, but it's definitely a bonus, along with the horrified, mortified expression on his face. 

"I hate you," Liam mumbles. Brett laughs, reclining with his arms behind his head. "I mean it," Liam says heatedly. "I hate you and I'm never wearing a maid outfit or any outfit for you. Are you listening to me?"

"Right. I'm listening. Only Lydia-approved outfits for you." 

Brett watches Liam, amused at his continued mutterings about how much he hates Brett and wants to dismember him. He heads into the bathroom, and Brett follows him.

"What's that?" he asks.

"Risperdal." Liam's holding a dark brown bottle, and for a minute, Brett thinks he's going to knock back a pill, but instead he opens the lid and picks up what looks like a syringe, until Brett sees it has a blunt, open end. "I have to take it every morning." 

Brett picks up the leaflet sitting on the counter as Liam sticks the syringe in the bottle, drawing the plunger back. The liquid inside is clear; Brett raises his eyebrows. "This is a lot of warnings and precautions," he says, growing increasingly alarmed as he reads the list.

Liam shrugs. "It's an anti-psychotic," he says blankly. "They only just started using it to treat I.E.D five years ago or something. It's usually for people with schizophrenia." He leans around Brett, scans the leaflet, and points. "Right there."

"Aren't there tablets?" he asks. 

"Yeah." Liam shrugs. "I wouldn't take them when I was a kid so I've always taken the liquid stuff. I guess I could switch now though."

Brett watches as Liam puts the syringe in his mouth, grimacing as he pushes down on the plunger and swallowing. When he's done, he dumps the tube in the sink and shudders. "Tastes gross," he mutters. "I'll never get used to it." 

"How much do you take?"

"Two milligrams." Liam looks sheepish now. "I'm sorry. I should've taken it later, when you weren't around," he says uneasily. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything." 

Brett shakes his head, steps close, and wraps Liam in a hug. He's thinking about all the times he picked on the poor kid while they were at school together, and now he knows Liam has to do this every morning, without fail, and that it kind of sucks more than just taking a pill, and he's overwhelmed with guilt.

"Don't be like that," Liam says. "You didn't know." He must be reading Brett's emotional state.

"Doesn't make it right."

Liam leans back to look at him. "It doesn't matter now," he says, and he means it. "Breakfast? I'm meant to eat when I have this. I get sick when I don't." 

"Why?" Brett finally manages to put the image of the medicine bottle and tube out of his brain.

"I'm kinda not meant to take this stuff on an empty stomach," Liam admits. "It makes me really dizzy when I do. Being a werewolf doesn't seem to help either." 

Brett nods, follows Liam downstairs. "Your body metabolises it faster, but seeing as it's mostly made up of stuff you have anyway, the effects are still pronounced," he says.

Liam blinks at him. "Okay. Wait, really?"

"Really." He hustles behind Liam as they walk downstairs - Liam's got shorter legs and his pace is infuriatingly slow for Brett, who would happily jump down them three at a time. "So, how dizzy is really dizzy?"

"It's like being on my own personal rollercoaster ride," Liam says. "Which I know sounds fun but I can't get off when I want so it really isn't."

Brett's picking up some hostility there, in between the lines, because he never said anything about it sounding fun - it really doesn't. "Something wrong?" he asks lightly. "You seem sort of tense."

"I'm okay." Liam sighs. "I used to get dizzy a lot when I started taking it. I didn't really get that I had to eat, and I was never hungry in the mornings anyway, so I'd take it and by the time I'd get to first period I'd be sleepy and dizzy. And also failing math."

"Guess you'd better eat something then," Brett says. He doesn't need Liam to finish his story; he knows that it probably ends with him getting picked on or bullied. He thinks Liam is pretty well-adjusted for someone who's dealt with so much; he remembers hearing that Liam's father had been arrested on domestic violence charges after a 911 call from other boys at school, whispered in the hallways, the way Liam was away for a week and then came back to everyone looking at him sideways, like he was on the brink of a breakdown. 

Brett was thirteen at the time; his parents had just died. He remembers thinking, even then, that even though they were gone, he was lucky to have had parents who didn't beat him and his sister the way Liam's dad did his wife and son. It didn't make him angry, then; he didn't understand what post-traumatic stress was, that suffering continues even after the abuse has stopped. 

"You spend a lot of time zoning out when I'm talking," Liam says. 

Brett shakes himself. "Sorry. Got lost in thought."

Liam's holding up two boxes. "Lucky Charms or Honey Crunch?" he asks.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Brett asks, lunging for the Lucky Charms.

Liam's already got a bowl of Honey Crunch and a banana in front of him. "We're gonna be fat before Lacrosse season starts," he says. 

"I don't care," Brett says through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. "Satomi doesn't buy Lucky Charms. This is great."

Liam smiles at him, though it quickly turns into a laugh. At a loss for what he's said that's so funny, Brett says, "Something amusing you, Dunbar?"

"Just..." Liam trails off into a chuckle. "I got this image of Satomi walking around Costco bulk-buying everything twenty werewolves might need." 

Brett laughs too, because that is a pretty funny image. "Nah, she gets everything delivered in bulk," he says, still smiling. "Come on. Let's go." 

"Where are we going?" Liam follows him anyway.

"Chinese food," Brett says. "The best thing ever to happen to Beacon Hills." 

~*~

"When do your parents come back?" Brett asks.

Liam dips a dumpling in soy sauce and says, "About a week."

"Will I have to start sneaking in and out?" Brett jokes. 

He's a little alarmed when Liam responds by tipping one shoulder, swallowing the whole dumpling in one bite, and saying, "Probably."

"Are they going to care you're with me?" he asks carefully.

Liam smiles. "Am I with you now?" He shakes his head, not waiting for an answer - which is good because Brett doesn't really have one. "No," he says. "It's more the fact that I'm kind of only sixteen. They won't like that. Especially because when they left I was more or less pure." The last part is said sarcastically, but it's still true and Brett knows that. "Now they're coming back and Mom's gonna freak out, like, she goes away for a month and comes back and her baby is all deflowered - by a guy I used to hate - and grown up. At least let me ease them into it."

"You aren't sixteen yet," Brett says. "I also haven't completely deflowered you."

"Close enough." Liam shrugs, levels him with a flat look. "And pretty close."

"Don't you want me to?" Brett asks curiously. Liam seems to enjoy it when it's happening, hasn't said otherwise. He watches the telltale flush crawl into Liam's face.

"No," he mumbles. "I want you to. I just have trouble thinking about it sometimes." 

"Why?" 

Liam rubs the back of his neck. "I dunno," he says quietly. "I just - it's embarrassing. Not you," he says hurriedly when Brett opens his mouth. "Just um - some of the stuff I think."

Brett smirks; he likes where this is heading. "Really?"

"Don't make it worse," Liam moans, doing a good impression of a turtle shrinking into its shell. "I'll probably ask next time we're - you know - anyway." 

"I can't believe that a few nights ago you were begging me to come on you and now you're too shy to even use the word sex," Brett says. "It's kind of great. Want some more dumplings?" 

Liam nods, and Brett pushes them towards him, saying, "That's it. Self-medicate with food like the rest of the population."

"You're so weird," Liam mutters.

Brett doesn't care. He's kind of mesmerised by the way Liam's collarbones shift under his tank and flannel, the little puffs of chest hair that are starting to make an appearance, the way the sun strikes his hair and eyelashes and turns them a blazing gold. Liam's got a piece of string wound around his left hand, which he's using to nudge at his fried rice with his fork.

"Are you left handed?" Brett asks.

Liam looks up at him, nods. "Why?"

"I've never been with anyone left handed before," Brett says.

There's a smile beginning on Liam's face, and Brett's determined to keep it there. "Do you ask everyone you sleep with if they're left handed?" Liam asks.

"I do, as a matter of fact."

"And why is that?" Liam's got his head down but Brett can see the little fucker smiling like a dork.

"I'm actually just conducting a really long, drawn out survey to see if there are more left or right handed people in Beacon Hills," Brett says. "No one will tell me right off the bat so I have to sleep with them to gain access to the information." 

Liam tips his head back and laughs loudly enough that it garners attention from an elderly couple passing by. Brett smiles at the sight, glad to have finally made him laugh after the shitty time they've all been having lately.

"Wow," Liam says. "You're just using me to further your studies."

His eyes are still glittering with mirth, though, so Brett's not worried. He wants to make Liam laugh like that more often but he's still having trouble learning how to do it.  
"Well," Brett leans forward, looking at Liam through his lashes, "I think the impartial nature of my study has been compromised. One of my subjects is particularly alluring, and it seems like I can't keep myself away from him."

Liam's blushing softly, but still smiling, looking like he's straddling the fence between a smirk and outright laughter. "Are you flirting with me?"

Brett widens his eyes. "Who says _you're_ the subject, Dunbar?" 

Liam leans away from him, gives him a surprisingly cocky half-smirk, and says, "I would know if there was anyone else."

Liam learning how to play his game is even more fun that riling him up. Brett laughs and smacks his shoulder. Nobody watching them would think they were sleeping together. 

"And what would you do?" Brett asks.

Liam shrugs, faux-casual and measured. "I wouldn't like it," he says. "I guess I'd have to remind you why you picked me in the first place." 

Brett likes the sound of that. But maybe later; right now it's a nice day outside and they're not being attacked by supernatural creatures which is, well, almost unheard of for Beacon Hills.

"Let's go somewhere," he says.

Liam squints. "We are somewhere."

Brett shakes his head. "Jesus, Liam. Somewhere that's not here."

"Like where?" Liam's looking interested now; he's put his napkin down and has his body pitched towards Brett. Something about that has a warm, gentle glow starting up in Brett's chest; not long ago, Liam was too nervous to look him in the eye or show any positive body language. Now, he's got Liam's full attention - and it's not because Brett is annoying him or picking on him. 

Brett shrugs. "We could drive down to the lake," he says. "There are a couple of trails around there." 

Liam smiles. "Is this a date?"

Brett flounders for a moment, caught in the beam of Liam's smile. Is it a date? He doesn't usually do that. The last time he dated was a year ago, a girl who was the sister of one of his lacrosse teammates. He wasn't very good at it; laid on the charm thick, but she got bored of that fast, and Brett didn't know any other way to keep her. 

He doesn't know if it's a date - didn't set out with the intention that it would be - but he wants to make Liam smile, and _wow, Talbot, that is some grade-A mush you've got there_ , so he says, "As a matter of fact, yes."

"So this is your version of wining and dining?" Liam seems to have picked up on his confliction, because he's still smiling but the joke is for Brett's benefit, not his. Brett snorts.

"I can't afford wine and you're too young anyway."

Liam shrugs. "That's okay. I prefer Chinese food."

Brett laughs, begins grabbing their rubbish to put in the bin. When he returns to the table, Liam's standing up, shoving his phone and wallet into his pockets. "Where's the lake?" he asks. "I went there once but I don't remember it very well."

"You'll see," Brett says.

~*~

They spend almost an hour climbing the rocks around the lake - Liam takes his shoes off and dumps them in Brett's car so they won't get wet - before settling down with their feet in the water. There are a few other people there, but not many; summer hasn't quite hit hard enough to warrant being near the water yet. 

Brett's kind of pleasantly surprised to find that they have plenty to talk about when they're not having sex or in mortal danger, which is unexpected; they've unintentionally done everything backwards, and he really didn't know if they'd have a lot in common besides lacrosse. But Liam seems to like Breaking Bad as much as he does, even if he hasn't finished watching it, and asks questions about almost everything Brett brings up. 

He's halfway through explaining his perception of Satomi's mantra when a yawn grips Liam's body, bringing sleepy tears to his eyes and making him shake his head. Brett stops what he's doing.

"Am I keeping you awake?"

Liam yawns again, covering his mouth and shaking his head. "The drugs make me sleepy sometimes," he says. "I'm listening." 

"You wanna go?" Brett asks. He's sort of surprised they still affect Liam the way they do, but not that much; there are a few of his pack who take medication for various mental ailments. The bite only fixes physical ailments, not behavioural or mental ones. 

"Nah," Liam says uneasily. "You um - don't have to treat me differently just because of this, yeah? It doesn't happen that often. Just sometimes." 

Brett nods. He wouldn't like being treated differently either. 

There's a long pause, broken only by another one of Liam's jaw-cracking yawns. Finally, Brett says, "Why do you still take it?"

"Risperdal?" Brett nods - what else? - and Liam continues. "It still helps," he says, shrugging. "Especially leading up to a full moon. I.E.D makes me stronger as a werewolf but it also makes it harder to control the shift. It's just... I don't know, comforting to know that if I'm too tired to hold a conversation I'm not going to be able to claw someone's throat out either." 

"Is that why you take it?" Brett asks softly. "Because you think you'll hurt someone if you don't?"

Liam nods. "My therapist-" he says the word so quietly Brett strains his hearing to pick it up - "says that the I.E.D isn't who I am, and my step-dad and mom have both told me the same thing, and Mason says it at least once a week it feels like, but I remember not being in control of it and everyone thinking that's who I was - just this really angry aggressive kid. And maybe that's not me, but sometimes I can't tell the difference. Makes me feel like a freak."

Brett frowns, looks for something to say. He puts his arm around Liam's shoulders, surprised that he doesn't pull away, begins tugging him closer.

"You're not a freak," he says. "You're just you. Maybe your I.E.D will always be there and always be a part of you, but maybe one day you'll be able to use it to learn and help others instead of being afraid of it."

Liam gives him a vulnerable smile. "Thanks. Hope so." 

They sit like that for a while. Brett idly plays with the shoulder of Liam's flannel, rubbing the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Liam is staring across the water, his eyes almost glowing with the light reflecting off the water.

Brett shifts slightly, then says, "Tell me honestly if I'm overstepping," he says, and a look of apprehension spreads across Liam's face. "But... if you wanted to get off it," Brett says carefully, "we could probably teach you some meditation techniques to help you control your shift. Me and my pack I mean. There has to be a better way than you being sleepy all the time."

The look on Liam's face is open, vulnerable. "Do you... do you think it'd work?" he asks, voice small. "I mean I hate taking it. But I don't want to stop if that's the only way to control it."

Brett nods. "I get it. How about you go off it for a week or so and we just see if it helps?"

Liam looks reluctant. "I uh - I mean I can," he says quickly, "just - the last time I went off it without telling anyone I was a paranoid freak for almost a month."

"Withdrawal?" Brett asks, and Liam nods.

"Yeah." He swallows. "It was hell. I barely left my bed. I was terrified of everything and too tired to get up."

"Do you think it'll happen now that you're a werewolf?"

"I don't know," Liam says helplessly. "It might, but maybe not as bad? I don't know. I don't really have anyone I can ask... I want to get off it, but what if it's the only way to treat what I've got? I don't know what I'd do if I hurt someone."

"Why don't I ask Satomi?" Brett asks. "She might know."

Liam nods."I want to try the meditation," he says. "Do you know anyone it works for?"

"A few that used to be in my pack," Brett says, not elaborating on the "used to". It's too painful to think of his former pack members, all dead at the hands of the assassins, the deadpool, too painful to think of all the extra, empty rooms at his pack's living complex.

"It took them a while to learn," Brett continues, mostly to distract himself. "But they did. None of them had I.E.D that I know of, but a few had other things. There was a mix of people who took their medication and people who relied on meditation. Both seemed to work well."

Liam nods, looking like he's more at ease with the idea. He looks back out across the water.

"This is nice," he says. 

His cheeks look a little red. Brett gives him a little shake. "Good first date, then?"

Liam's cheeks get a little redder with that, and he nods.

"Is this your first date ever?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam says. "I mean I had one when I was twelve for the school dance. But... I get the feeling that doesn't count."

"It doesn't," Brett laughs. "Is this living up to expectations?"

Liam nods with a smile. "I thought I'd be buying a girl ice cream or something," he says. "I don't know why but ice cream was always involved when I thought about it."

"You can buy _me_ ice cream instead," Brett suggests hopefully.

Liam laughs. "Okay. I'll buy you ice cream." 

~*~

When they get back to Liam's place, Brett doesn't get out of the car. 

"I'm gonna go see Satomi," he says. "About meditation."

Liam nods slowly. "Okay."

His voice is quiet - he's been sleepy the whole way back, dozing in and out as Brett talked. Brett knows he'll probably just go to bed when he gets inside, but he feels guilty about leaving.

"I can come back when I'm done," he says.

Liam smiles. "Yeah."

He fishes in his pocket and pulls out his key. "This is mine," he says, "I'll use the spare. Just in case I'm asleep." 

Brett tucks it into the pocket on his t-shirt.

Liam bites his lip, then says, "See you soon?" in a tone that's most definitely a question.

Brett nods. "Yeah. I'll be back before you have time to miss me."

Liam scoffs. "I won't miss you. You hog the bed."

"That was almost sweet until you opened your mouth, Dunbar."

Liam leans in and gives him a quick kiss just as he's finishing his sentence, then leans black, blushing furiously. "Bye," he says, and hurries up the steps to his house.

Brett smirks to himself. He can still fluster Liam. He won't ever let the kid beat him at his own game.

~*~

Satomi is in the common room of their living complex when Brett gets back.

She smiles at him when he enters. Brett and his sister are two of Satomi's youngest betas, and she treats them as such. He's often wondered if she has children of he own, but it would be rude to ask. She would probably tell him, but he knows better.

"You've been with Scott's beta," she notes.

Brett rubs his neck. "Yeah." 

"Is anything wrong?"

Brett takes up a meditation position across from her. "I was wondering," he says softly, "if we could teach him how to meditate."

"We can," Satomi says. "But first I need to know why so we can choose the method best suited to him."

"He has I.E.D. Intermittent explosive disorder. It makes him violent. He's on anti-psychotics right now, but it makes him tired and it burns off fast now that he's a werewolf." 

Satomi nods. "We can teach him," she says. "But he has to discontinue his medication first. That's the only way we'll know whether the meditation is working."

"I'll tell him." He maintains eye contact with Satomi. Her eyes are deep brown, soothing and calm. She's been alive longer than any werewolf Brett's ever met, let alone heard of, and it shows itself in the quiet, indecipherable wisdoms carved into her face and veins.

"How is the little one?" she asks him.

Satomi almost always refers to Liam as "the little one" because he's the youngest werewolf she knows of. Brett feels like telling her that Liam's not really that little, but he supposes when you're as old as Satomi everyone is.

"He's alright," Brett says. "Stressed. But doing okay."

Satomi nods. "And have you found who poisoned him?" 

Brett shakes his head. "No. There's no scent for me to track. I couldn't pick it up the first night through every other scent there."

She nods. "He will show himself again," she says. "All you need to do is wait."

"What if Liam gets hurt again?" Brett asks softly. 

Satomi doesn't have an answer for that. She watches Brett steadily until he says, "May I be excused?"

She nods, and he stands up. 

"Are you going to be with him?" she asks.

He nods. "I told him I'd go back after seeing you."

"No, Brett. Are you going to be with him?" 

He knows what she means. "Yes," he says, because it's the honest truth. "I am. I want to be." 

She smiles. "Good. Protect each other."

"That's the plan."

~*~

Liam is sleeping when Brett comes in.

He's not under the covers, curled up on top with his head barely on the pillow, drowning in the shirt from Brett's car. He doesn't stir when Brett enters his room.

Brett gets on the bed behind him and pulls him close, spooning him and tucking him up until he's wrapped in Brett's body.

"Hi," Liam says sleepily.

"Hey. I talked to Satomi. She said she'll teach you how to meditate."

Liam rolls over, rubbing his eyes. "Do I get to see where you live now?"

"If you want. It isn't much though." He plucks at Liam's shirt to stop him from latching onto that piece of information, because it's far more than he meant to say. "Doesn't this need to be washed by now?" he teases.

"It smells like you." Brett thinks sleepy Liam admitting things he'd never normally say is awesome, so he grins and keeps going.

"I have plenty of shirts. And conveniently enough they all smell like me. So why don't you put this in the wash and I'll give you another?"

Liam yawns. "Okay." 

He doesn't move to take it off, though; instead, he rolls over, slinging an arm and leg over Brett's body, tucks his face into the hollow of Brett's throat. "Liam," Brett says, amused.

Liam whines. "Later." 

Brett's on the verge of arguing his point when Liam's phone vibrates on his bedside table. "Who's that?" he asks.

"Stiles." Liam yawns. "Probably. He's been helping me with biology and math."

Brett lets Liam doze off where he is, even feels his own eyes beginning to shut. He feels safe here, at home. It's Liam's house and his bedroom and his scent, everywhere, and Brett thinks that's probably what it is - smelling Liam so close is what makes it feel safe. 

"What're you doing?" Liam grumbles. Brett notices he's nosing around in Liam's hair, scenting him, and stops.

"Sorry," he says sleepily. "Didn't mean to." He gathers Liam closer with an arm around his shoulders. He's drifting again, listening to Liam's sleep-softened breathing, when Liam's phone vibrates again - this time, a call.

"Liam."

"What?" Liam groans.

"Your phone."

Liam rolls over, lunging for it before it can stop ringing, and swipes to answer. "Yeah?" he asks tiredly, pushing a hand through his hair.

Brett rests his head on Liam's chest, listening to his heartbeat contentedly. He could do this all day. Probably.

Liam sits up, jostling him. "What?" he breathes.

Brett's awake now, sitting up too. "What?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there. No I - I have a ride I think." Liam hangs up, turns to Brett. "It was Stiles," he says. "There are eight new holes on the lacrosse field at school. They're empty."

"Eight?" Brett asks dumbly.

"And they're empty. Which means-"

"Yeah, I know. My math isn't that bad. Let's go." 

Eight new holes on the lacrosse field can only mean one thing - there are eight new chimeras roaming Beacon Hills.

~*~

_Holes on the lacrosse field. Eight new chimeras._

The thought has been circulating Brett's head through his entire English class, like a shark around prey. 

Eight holes on the Beacon Hills high school lacrosse field. And he hasn't even been there all morning because it's not his school - Liam is there alone while there are eight new chimeras wandering around. Fucking wonderful.

Well. Not alone. His entire pack is there. But still...

_Holes on the lacrosse field. Eight new chimeras._

He skips out after third period. It doesn't take him long to make it to Liam's school, and he eventually tracks Liam by scent to the school's soccer field. He can see Liam with a lacrosse stick in his hand, wearing an athletic tank and shorts, practicing with some teammates. He's got great shoulders, Brett reflects. 

He spots Mason sitting in the bleachers and begins climbing the stairs up two at a time, dropping down next to him.

"Don't you have school?" Mason asks curiously.

"Neither of you ever just say hi," Brett remarks back. "Yeah. I skipped." He motions at Liam. "Thought I'd come watch."

A smile is unfurling on Mason's face. "You talked to him."

"Was it that obvious?" Brett asks blithely.

"Kind of. He's in a good mood. Well, sort of." Mason stares down at where Liam's twisting his lacrosse stick, pausing to punch the netting a little. "Are you sure it's a good idea for him to go off the drug?"

"Has he been aggressive?" Brett asks, worried.

"No. He's sluggish, though. Tired. Said he felt sick this morning. But he's been like that before when he's been off it. It's usually just the first week."

Brett hates this; hates that Liam even has to be on medication in the first place, never mind him going off it just to see if meditation works for him. He's planning on taking Liam to Satomi tonight, but if Liam's feeling sick, he might not.

"He seems okay," he says.

"Oh, yeah. He's alright. He doesn't let it stop him. Especially with lacrosse." 

That sounds like Liam. He watches as Liam looks over at the bleachers, sees him there - and promptly misses his shot by a mile, causing his shoulders to slump.

"Brett, have you... figured out who drugged him?"

That must be the running theme of the day, Brett figures. "No," he murmurs. "I want to, but I don't really have much to go on."

There's a pause, then Mason says, "So. Eight new chimeras."

"Yep," Brett says.

"How do we find them?" Mason asks. He's taking to the supernatural like a duck to water, and Brett's not sure he's got a very thorough understanding of how dangerous it all is yet. "Do you think there are any at your school?"

"I dunno, dude," Brett says. "Everyone at Devonford is pretty abnormal to me."

"Alright, what else is there to look for? There's heightened strength, smell, hearing, speed..."

"Uhh, able to see in the dark."

"Glowing eyes."

"Eyes that reflect the light."

"Visible scorpion stingers protruding out of limbs..."

"Yeah, or three foot lizard tails." When he says it, Liam misjudges another shot, misses, and turns to the bleachers, as if trying to convey that they're distracting him. 

Mason chuckles, shakes his head. "This is screwed up."

He's distracted by watching Liam get into an aggressive round of tit-for-tat with one of the girls playing soccer, recognises her as Hayden. He doesn't say anything as he watches, sort of hoping Liam wins, observes as he sinks a goal so aggressive and fast in its delivery it knocks the poor goalie off his feet.

"Hey, what's up with him and Hayden?" he asks Mason. "It's like they can't stand each other. But you and her are friends, right?"

"Yeah, we are. She's in my French class. But they have history." Mason pulls out his phone. "Liam wasn't so good with anger management in the sixth grade," he says, "and he got into a fight. Something dumb. Hayden walked into it, and..."

Mason's phone loads a photo of sixth-grade Hayden's yearbook photo, complete with bandages over her nose. "Damn," Brett says. "So what'd she do to him?" 

Mason laughs. "This is the best bit."

He scrolls, and Brett laughs when he sees Liam's photo with a bandage to match Hayden's. "Oh, damn," he chuckles. "So that's why..." 

"Yeah... if you haven't noticed, Liam's not very good at losing."

Has he noticed? How could he have not noticed? Liam sulks when he loses at Mortal Kombat. The only time he doesn't sulk losing is when he loses a wrestling match, and that's only because he likes it when Brett pins him down.

"Does anyone have an inhaler?"

Brett looks up as he sees Liam's body language change, hears him mutter, "Scott," as he rushes off the field. "What's going on?" Mason asks.

"Liam's worried about Scott," Brett says. "Come on."

They head down the bleachers and into the school, but fail to find the crowd. Brett tries tracking Liam by scent, but he ends up in the locker room, staring at the destroyed lock on Scott's locker. 

By the time he follows the scent back to the hallway, Liam is padding down it, looking worried and biting his nails. He looks up when he catches Brett's scent.

"What happened?" Brett asks him.

"Scott had an asthma attack."

Brett blinks. "Scott's a werewolf," he says slowly. "He can't-"

"Well he did!" Liam snaps.

Brett watches as he takes a deep breath and pushes the heels of his hands back into his eyeballs, remembering that one of the withdrawal symptoms from Risperdal is irritability. 

"Sorry," Liam murmurs.

"It's okay." Brett puts a hand on his shoulder. "Is he okay now?"

Liam nods. 

"Okay," Brett says. "Cool. That's good."

Liam rubs his eyes. "Hey," he says hesitantly, "do you reckon you could give me a lift to Sinema today?"

"Sinema?" Brett asks. "Why?"

"I promised Hayden I would pay her back the two hundred I owe her for the shots. So I was gonna catch her before she started work."

Brett nods. "I'll take you. I thought I'd bring you to my place today, see if we could do some meditation. Mason said you weren't feeling that great though."

"Just tired," Liam says. "Kind of moody." He looks up as the bell rings. "God, I'm gonna be late to biology," he moans. "Again. I'm already failing. Talk later?"

"Yeah." Brett tries to restrain his smile. "Okay."

Liam looks at him for a moment, but they don't kiss before they part, and he watches Liam rush away to the locker rooms. 

Figuring he can probably make it back in time for calculus, Brett leaves the hallway.

~*~

He's back at Beacon Hills high school less than three hours later, idling in the parking lot. 

He doesn't have to wait long. Liam's soon exiting the school, scratching the back of his head and texting with his other, so absent in where he's going that people are giving him dirty looks. He's wearing one of those two-toned baseball tees Brett loves, faded jeans, Converse. 

He looks up, staring around, and Brett's phone goes off. He rolls his eyes when he sees the text.

 **From** : Liam Dunbar, 2:17PM  
Where are you???

"Right here, dumbass," Brett says, watching with amusement as Liam's head whips around in his direction. He heads over, cutting through a few rows of cars, and swings himself into the passenger seat.

"Do you seriously not recognise my car yet?" Brett asks.

Liam looks at him, and Brett can tell, just from the way his eyebrows slant downwards, that he's touchy. "It's not like it looks different from other cars," Liam snarks. 

Brett laughs. He almost makes a comment about Liam's bitchiness, but remembers that it's because he's withdrawing from an anti-psychotic and decides against it. "You want anything to eat?" he asks. "I'm kind of hungry."

Liam's slumped back in his seat, playing Candy Crush. _Who the hell still plays that anymore_? Brett wonders. He gives Liam a moment to answer, but when none is forthcoming, he prompts, "Hey. Hungry?"

Liam looks up. "No thanks," he says.

Brett looks at Liam closely. He looks sort of pale, now that Brett's taking notice. "Nauseous?" he asks lightly. 

Liam rubs the back of his neck. "How'd you know?"

"Did some research when you said you'd go off your meds. Just didn't want to be caught unawares, that's all. How bad? Are you gonna puke?"

Liam gives him a dirty look. "It's not that bad."

Brett kicks himself; he doesn't seem to be getting anything right today. "Hey," he tries again. "If you aren't up to it, we won't meditate, yeah? We'll go watch movies at yours until Hayden starts, then go there. We can always meditate after." 

Liam tilts his head back against the seat, eyes shut, swallowing. Instead of forcing him to answer, Brett takes stock of his emotional state, surprised at just how many chemo signals he reads. Liam's heart rate is up, he's shivery, feels cold, fatigued and ill. His emotions are jumping all over the place. Brett's surprised to find that he's not irritated, although that is in there - mostly, Liam's anxious, swinging up into near-hysteria in irregular intervals.

He can take his pain, but he can't do anything to ease mood swings induced by withdrawal. Liam looks miserable, though, so he has to try something - he reaches out and puts his hand on Liam's thigh, squeezing it gently. "Withdrawal, huh?" he asks softly.

Liam turns to him. His expression of annoyance falls away into one of nervousness. "It's not as bad as it was last time," Liam mumbles. "But I'd forgotten how bad it felt."  
Brett nods. "Let's just go back to yours," he says. "We'll watch a movie. You can sleep if you want."

For a moment, irritation flashes across Liam's face, clear as day, before it's gone. "I might," he concedes, then falls silent again. He puts his feet up against the dashboard, sinking lower into his car seat, goes back to his phone. 

It's that more than anything that indicates to Brett that he's trying to keep himself under control, but it can't be easy when his body is shrieking for a drug. He rubs Liam's thigh rhythmically, hoping it's soothing him.

It is, sort of, but it's not having the desired impact, so Brett switches to the back of his neck, rubbing the tendons there and gripping it firmly, his palm pressed down. When he looks over, Liam's eyes are closed, his head tilted back. 

He doesn't know what it is about grabbing Liam's neck that calms him, but who's he to judge? He doesn't mind. He's just glad there's a way to do it. 

"You should stop and get food," Liam mumbles.

"Are you hungry?" Brett asks hopefully. Liam hasn't eaten since lunch hour - that's if he ate anything then at all - and he probably should. 

"No," Liam sighs. "I meant for you."

"Liam-"

Liam bites his lip, and Brett smells the rising annoyance coming off him. "There's nothing to eat at my place," he says shortly. "Seriously. You should stop and get food."

Brett can't work out if Liam's angry because Brett's not listening to him and genuinely wants him to get food, or is suggesting to be polite and doesn't want him to stop. He's trying not to snap, clearly trying to keep his temper in check, though, and that's something. 

Brett turns into the mall parking lot a few minutes later, turns the ignition off. "You don't have to get out if you don't want," he says.

Liam swings out of the car. "I want to."

Brett's thrown. Liam's been moody the whole drive here, trying not to snap at Brett, but seems to want to come with him into the mall anyway. It's confusing for Brett, especially considering he's never dealt with Liam like this before. He doesn't know what to do. "Okay," he says, grabbing his wallet off the dashboard and getting out of the car.

Liam follows him for fifty feet or so before Brett hears him stop. He turns around. "What's up?"

Liam's pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I'm trying." 

Brett doesn't need to ask what he means. "I know you are," he says, in what he hopes is a soothing tone. "It's okay." He goes back, takes Liam's shoulders, and begins steering him towards the doors. Liam still looks upset.

"Hey," Brett says, just to break the silence. "You might not be hungry, but how's a smoothie sound?" He's hoping he can get Liam to eat at least something, and a smoothie seems like a good enough start. 

"...Yeah. Good." Liam's voice is small.

"Okay. My shout."

"I - no, you don't have to pay," Liam says, clearly flustered by the offer.

"The whole idea of buying you a smoothie is to make you feel better, you dork," Brett says. "How am I gonna do that if _you_ pay for it?" He doesn't know if there's anything that can make Liam feel better but he's going to try. It would be sort of shit of him not to.

When they get inside, Brett makes a beeline for the smoothie joint, which gets busy right after school, and secures their place in line while Liam catches up. He sidles up to Brett, sliding his hands into his pockets and standing close.

"What do you want?" Brett asks.

"Um..." Liam scans the board. He doesn't look like he finds anything particularly appetising, but Brett's glad he's at least humouring him by pretending. "Maybe orange and pineapple?"

"Orange?" Brett asks doubtfully.

"I like oranges," Liam says.

"Yeah, but no one picks orange flavoured anything. Skittles, Starburst, Popsicles - if it's orange, it's relegated to the bottom of the pile."

"Is this going on your list?" Liam asks.

"My list?"

"Yeah. Your "weird things Liam does" list. Along with eating ice cubes and never drying my hair before bed." Liam gives him a tired smile, which Brett thinks is meant to convey the fact that he's kidding. 

"Yeah. It's going on my list." He grabs the back of Liam's neck, gives him a little shake. "And those aren't the only things on it, Dunbar."

Liam doesn't answer, arching his neck slightly into Brett's touch. "Orange and pineapple it is," Brett sighs. "Freak. Maybe you should get some mango in it as well."

He's surprised when Liam looks sort of interested. "Yeah. I might try that."

When they get to the counter, Brett orders an apple and strawberry smoothie while Liam takes his advice and adds mango to his. They stand to the side, silent as they watch it get made. Liam's leaning against the side of the store, looking around.

"You okay?" Brett asks.

Liam looks at him, gives a brief nod. His chemo signals say otherwise - he reeks of anxiety and nerves, and Brett can hear that his heartbeat is slightly elevated. He wonders why Liam chose to follow him into a busy shopping centre when he could've waited in the peace and quiet of the car. 

The harassed-looking sixteen year old behind the counter passes Brett their drinks. Brett hands Liam his, saying, "Wanna sit somewhere?" and following when Liam heads for the quietest section of the food court.

He sits down across from Liam, who's situated himself in a booth chair against the window. He's found the only available corner and seems to be set on staying there for a while, judging by the way he slumps down into it and wriggles back. 

Brett heaves a sigh. Liam glances up, almost reluctantly, as if he's not quite willing to meet Brett's eyes. "Sorry," he apologises meekly.

Brett shakes his head, reaches across the table, and touches Liam's wrist. "I'm not mad at you," he says softly. "I just don't like seeing you like this."

"Annoyed?" Liam sounds uneasy. He scratches his hair, playing with a couple of strands of it on the back of his neck, then dropping his hand. He does the same thing at night, too, when he's worried about sleeping or nightmares.

"No. Strung out. Nervous." 

Liam releases a shaky, pent up breath and ducks his head to catch the straw of his smoothie in his mouth, sipping at it. Brett leaves his hand on Liam's wrist, comforted by the warmth of his skin. 

"Liam," he says gently.

Liam looks at him.

"Is there anything that makes it better?" Brett asks. "The anxiety, I mean. I don't care if you're moody. I don't even care if you take it out on me. But if there's something I can do to make it easier for you, let me know."

Liam's shoulders slump dejectedly. "If there's something that makes it easier I haven't found it yet," he says bitterly. "I never learned healthy coping methods as a kid. Anyone can tell you that." He scrubs at his face. "It doesn't matter who I'm with or where," he admits. "The only thing that helps is either taking Risperdal or waiting it out." 

Brett considers him for a moment. "But I bet the smoothie doesn't hurt, right?" he asks.

The corners of Liam's mouth twitch like he's trying to smile. "No." 

"Good." Brett pushes his away a little. "Will you be fine if I go get food?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." He pulls out his phone as Brett leaves.

He ends up getting Chinese, because he knows Liam has a thing for dumplings and even though he's not gonna force him to eat them, he's sort of hoping Liam decides he wants some when he smells them. He threads his way back to the table, finding Liam with his smoothie in one hand, straw in his mouth, and phone in the other.

He can hear the telltale Candy Crush sound effects as he approaches. "Candy Crush again?" he asks.

"I keep running out of lives on the same level," Liam mumbles. "And I end up rage quitting and starting again."

"Wait - so you've been _intentionally_ sending me dozens of Candy Crush requests a day?" Brett asks incredulously. 

"I just need to pass this level," Liam whines.

"Yeah, and you'll say that about the next level too." 

"So? I'll say it about every level until I've passed every level." Brett's always known Liam is stupidly hard-headed, especially when it comes to trivial things like Candy Crush, but hard evidence of the fact has him laughing.

"You are aware that there are well over a thousand levels, right?"

The expression on Liam's face is so priceless Brett finds himself snorting with laughter, choking on his fried rice. "You _didn't_ know," he sniggers.

"I just started playing casually!" Liam's starting to sound worked up. "I just got bored! And now I'm hooked and - a thousand levels? Are you serious?"

"I'm serious," Brett laughs.

"I'm gonna Google it," Liam mutters. Brett waits, amused, for Liam to find out he's telling the truth. 

Liam glances up at him, then puts his phone away. "I guess I'm gonna need to send more invites," he says finally.

"No, that's not the solution. The solution is to play a game that doesn't rely on you harassing everyone you know to get them to join. Please tell me you haven't bought lives."

Liam looks at him blankly. "I don't have a credit card."

Oh. Right. "Good." He sees that Liam's looking with some interest at the dumplings, pushes them across the table. "Have some," he offers.

"You've paid for everything though," Liam mumbles.

Brett shrugs. "You can pay next time if it makes you feel better."

Liam spears a dumpling and chews it in half. He's not all that enthusiastic about it, but Brett will take what he can get - and if Liam only eats one or two dumplings it's still more than Brett thought he'd eat so it's a win-win either way.

"You feeling a bit better?" Brett asks.

Liam nods. "Yeah." 

He doesn't smell as anxious or worried as before, though it's still there - he's still keyed-up, and Brett can imagine that something small could probably set him off. "So," Brett says, "why'd you come in with me?"

Liam shrugs. "Being around people helps sometimes," he says. "When I'm starting to get freaked out." He looks embarrassed, timid, as he lifts his eyes slowly to meet Brett's. His gaze is soft, hesitant, eyes a strange, reflective bluish-green in the light coming through the window. He slides his hand across the table until his hand is on Brett's wrist. "Being around _you_ helps," he mumbles. 

Brett smiles. It's nice to hear. "Yeah? Well, I'm glad." He scratches the inside of Liam's wrist lightly, admiring the soft, pale skin there, the map of veins beneath the surface. Liam's got his eyes closed, head resting on his fist. He seems to be enjoying the attention, so Brett keeps going, moving around the skin whenever Liam twitches like it's starting to get uncomfortable. 

"You wanna do anything else while we're here?" Brett asks. 

Liam shrugs, looking thoughtful. "GameStop?" 

"Sounds good to me," Brett says. He polishes off his smoothie and Chinese, noticing that Liam's still got over half of his left. "Jesus, Liam. That's gonna last you all day, isn't it?"

Liam shrugs. "I'm a cheap date."

He actually is, which is good because Brett, like most seventeen year olds, is not exactly rolling in money. He has a feeling that Liam's a little better off than he lets on, if the volume of clothes he bought with his allowance on Lydia's instruction is anything to go by. 

They stand up when Brett's done, and Brett lets Liam walk ahead of him. The mall is probably the largest attraction the town has, three levels with multiple car parks. GameStop is on the ground floor, near the bus stops.

As they're walking, Brett notices Liam starting to lag behind him and slows his pace. "What's up?"

Liam's nibbling his bottom lip. "Don't wanna see anyone from Devonford," he says. 

Brett swings his arm around Liam's shoulders. He doesn't care who sees them. "No one's gonna bug you," he says. "They all leave me alone and everyone at your school is in love with Scott." 

Liam nods. He doesn't seem to mind Brett's arm where it is, so he keeps it there. They don't get so much as a second look from anyone, apart from a few middle-aged people who grumble about PDA and steer their children away.

"Can't have them infected by the gay," Brett sighs, shaking his head. "Because being gay is definitely the worst thing that can happen to you."

"We aren't gay," Liam says. "They probably think we're going to hell." 

"Religion is only an excuse for bigotry," Brett says.

Liam doesn't seem to have a response for that, but he smiles, straw in his mouth. "Besides," Brett says, winking at him, "they don't know what they're missing."

Predictably, Liam flushes and stays that way until they reach GameStop. Brett watches as Liam wanders around aimlessly, drifting between displays with his straw in his mouth. He hasn't talked much since they left the food court, but his emotions are all over the place, so if not talking is what he needs to cope with it, Brett's not going to make him. 

They don't spend long in GameStop. Liam's heartbeat is ramping up again even though Brett can't discern any particular reason for him to be nervous, and he's the one who makes the choice to leave for Liam's place. 

It's raining outside, despite the heat, and Brett grimaces as he steps into the sticky, humid air. "Ugh," he says.

Liam doesn't seem that bothered; he's wearing a baseball tee that has a white body and grey sleeves, and the torso is beginning to turn transparent under the drops of water. Brett watches his muscles shift as he leads the way back to the car. 

Liam drops into the seat, barely holding down a yawn. Brett smirks. "Tired?"

"Yeah," Liam says sleepily. "I'm glad I ate though. I feel a bit better." 

Brett shrugs. "We can watch a movie if you're too sleepy for anything else," he says. "We still have a few hours before Hayden starts."

"Sounds good," Liam says.

He's gone quiet again, but Brett can sense the beginnings of pain, somewhere, and figures that's what it is - when he catches Liam pinching the bridge of his nose, he knows it's a headache. 

They pull into the drive a scant ten minutes later, and Liam swings himself out of the car almost straight away, forgetting his bag. Brett takes it and lopes up the stairs after Liam, who's already unlocking the front door.

They enter the cool air of the house and shut the door behind them. Liam notices his bag and says, "Oh. Thanks," before taking it.

He throws the bag down when they get in, flops down on the bed. Brett grins and slumps onto it as well, rolling so he can use his chest to press Liam deeper into his mattress.

"What do you want to watch?" Liam asks sleepily. 

Brett shrugs. "I don't care. What do you want to watch?"

Liam groans and begins to sit. "Um..." 

He ends up picking the Andrew Garfield version of Spider Man. Brett's happy enough with that - they're only really watching because Liam's too fatigued to do anything else. Liam lays with his head on Brett's shoulder, dozing.

He wakes up halfway through the movie, frowning and curling closer. Brett adjusts his grip, asks, "What's up?"

Liam doesn't say anything, but Brett knows - from his scent, which has taken a turn for the worse, and the way he's got his arms wrapped around his middle protectively, that the nausea has probably gotten worse.

"You think you'll throw up?" Brett begins sitting. "I can find a bucket."

"I'm okay." It doesn't sound very convincing, though. "Seriously. It's pretty normal. I mean, it's happened before." 

"You need to eat a little more," Brett says gently. "Maybe not now, but when you're feeling better." 

Liam's irritation spikes, but he reigns in the urge to snap just like he has been all day, and says, "I will. It'll pass soon I think." 

Brett's impressed that he's holding back so well. He's not sure if it's the I.E.D or the withdrawal that's making Liam so snappy, though he feels like it's probably the latter. He hopes for Liam's sake it doesn't last too long, especially the headache and nausea he seems to be nursing.

Liam hasn't told him about the headache, but Brett's picked up on his pain levels spiking steadily all afternoon. He's gentle when he touches the side of Liam's face, now, absorbing the pain, watching as the pinched, tight expression on Liam's face gives way to relief.

"Thanks," he says. "You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to." If he can, why shouldn't he? Liam watches him for a moment, his expression strangely unreadable, before closing his eyes.

"I'm gonna get a drink," Brett says. "You want anything?"

Liam shakes his head. "I'm alright." He rubs his face. "There's juice though, if you want it," he says. "It's Mom's but they don't get back for another week so I'll just replace it before she's back."

Brett stands up. "Sure you don't want anything?"

"Uh huh," Liam mutters.

He gets Liam a glass of water anyway, figuring he might be able to get him to drink at least some of it if he times it right. When he gets back up the stairs, Liam's slumped over on his side on the bed, back to the door. 

Brett sighs, puts the glasses down, and sits back down on the bed. He can see Liam's eyes are shut and decides not to bother him, even though he can tell by Liam's heartbeat and scent that he's awake. It's obvious he doesn't want to be disturbed; Brett unpauses the movie and turns the volume down, rubbing Liam's back absently. 

He didn't know werewolves could go through withdrawal, although considering drugs still have an effect on them, he guesses it makes sense. He just hopes that Liam being a werewolf also cuts down on the symptoms and the time it takes.

Liam sleeps for half an hour, apparently comforted enough by Brett rubbing his back to doze off. When he wakes up, his mood change is palpable.

 _Maybe all he needed was to sleep_ , Brett thinks, watching as Liam rolls and stretches like a big, blonde cat. His shirt rides up, exposing his stomach, which Brett reaches for. He rubs it, listening to Liam sigh contentedly.

"We should get to Sinema," Brett says. "Hayden will probably start soon."

Liam sits up, shuffles close, and leans over Brett to get to the glass of water. "Okay," he says. "I'm uh... I'm kind of hungry. Can we stop on the way?"

Brett grins. "McDonald's okay?" Honestly, he'd eat anywhere right now. He's just glad Liam seems to be over the worst of it, at least for today. 

Liam nods. "Yeah. Uh, two seconds." He gets up and heads for his wallet, counting the money inside. "It's gonna take me forever to pay her back," he moans.

"At least you'll have a clear conscience," Brett says.

"Buddhism?"

"Common sense," Brett says dubiously.

Liam shoves him, but it's playful, and he's got a small smile on his face as they get into the car to go to Sinema.

~*~

"Hayden - Hayden, wait!"

Brett looks up curiously when the back door to Sinema slams open and Hayden stalks out, followed by a hurrying Liam. He's never seen anyone so mad about getting money given to them before.

"Asking me to close my eyes was weird, sticking a glowstick in my face even weirder, but werewolves and dead doctors?"

Brett feels his jaw drop of its own accord. What reason could Liam possibly have that would warrant telling Hayden pretty much everything?

"Dread Doctors," Liam corrects her hesitantly.

"Whatever. Get away from me," Hayden snaps. Brett has to admire her tenacity; there aren't many people who could go head-to-head with Liam and come out on top, and she's definitely one of them, knows how to look after herself.

"What if - what if I could prove it to you?" Liam rushes to say.

"Oh hell," Brett says. "Liam, don't. Don't do it."

"Prove what?" Hayden snaps, turning back around.

"This." Liam ducks his head. _He isn't_ , Brett thinks wildly, fumbling for his door handle. _He fucking isn't. He's gotta be smarter than to_ -

Liam roars, his eyes glowing and wolf fangs bared in an aggressive snarl.

Hayden shrieks in fear, winds back and punches Liam so hard he goes sprawling onto the concrete. She's driving away before Brett even gets to Liam, who's lying on the asphalt with his nose bleeding profusely.

"Oww," he whines.

"You're an idiot," Brett says. "She got you good." But he reaches down to help Liam up. "Why'd you tell her, dumbass?"

"She's one of them," Liam says. "She's a chimera. We have to find her."

"How do you know?" Brett starts the car when they're back in it, throws it into drive and speeds off. He barely contains his amusement when Liam hangs his head out the window to try and catch Hayden's scent.

"She was talking about how her boss never stops bragging about something but I couldn't hear without my wolf hearing," Liam rambles over the sound of the wind whipping past the window. "So I remembered what you and Mason talked about at lacrosse-"

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, I remembered you mentioned eyes that reflect the light so I used a glowstick and her eyes were like - like a cat's or something, they went that weird blue-green colour. She's a chimera." Liam's wiping at his nose, which stopped bleeding a few minutes ago. 

"She made you bleed," Brett comments.

"She's a chimera! She probably used chimera strength or something!"

Watching Liam get pissy over getting a bloody nose from a girl is pretty funny, but Brett doesn't feel like laughing as Liam says, "Right!"

He swerves right, says, "A little warning next time," and watches as the streetlamps flicker dangerously. The road is deserted save for one car in the middle of the road, stopped and creaking as the driver tries to start it.

Brett hears them before he spots them on the horizon. It's the mechanical whirr of gears and God knows whatever else that gives them away, their heavy footfalls, the echoing, unnatural silence left in their wake. 

Liam's opened his door and shot out of his seat before Brett can hold him back, and all he can do is yell, "Liam!" as he watches him hurtle towards Hayden's car, jump onto the back, and rip off the glass covering the sunroof. The Dread Doctors are approaching, but not quickly; it freaks Brett out, the way they move slowly, like they're in no hurry to capture their subjects. 

He watches as Liam hauls Hayden out of the car, sets her down and begins sprinting with her back to Brett, thinks Liam is a lot more like Scott than he realises.

"Drive," Liam pants when they're both in, and Brett floors it, spinning around and doing a u-turn away from the doctors. 

The moment the whirr fades, Brett looks at Liam, who's sitting in the passenger seat with his heart thundering. Hayden, in the back seat, reeks of fear and anxiety. Maybe they all do. Brett swallows.

"What the hell was that?" Hayden asks weakly.

"Dread Doctors," Brett responds. 

"Where are we going?" Her voice is dissolving like she's going to burst into tears and honestly Brett wouldn't blame her. 

"Liam's."

It's the only place he can think of that feels safe.

~*~

It takes Hayden all of five minutes to lock herself in the bathroom when they get back. 

Liam stands with his ear against the door, begging her to come out. "I'm sorry for scaring you," he says. "I just had to show you. You wouldn't have believed me otherwise..."

"They said my condition improves." Hayden's definitely crying now. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not dying!" Liam says.

"Dying?" Hayden sobs.

"Yeah, you're NOT dying!" Liam knocks again. "Please let us in, Hayden," he begs. "We're not going to hurt you." 

Brett steps up to the door, puts a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs.

Liam looks at him. Brett doesn't need to see the distress on his face to know that Liam's freaking out too; he stinks of anxiety and guilt. Still, the expression twists a knife somewhere in Brett's gut. He pulls Liam in, squeezes his shoulders.

"You got her out," he says. "It's okay. Scott will be here soon." 

"I didn't mean to scare her," Liam whispers.

Brett shakes his head. "She would've been scared anyway, dude," he says. 

Liam's chewing his lip and Brett can tell he doesn't believe any of what he's hearing, so he knocks on the door. "Hayden?" he asks softly. 

"I'm not coming out!" she cries heatedly.

Brett steps back. "Okay," he says. "But you're gonna have to talk to us at some point."

It's a bare two minutes later when Scott and Stiles arrive. Liam explains everything, tripping over himself to do so, and Brett catches the scent of blood. It's coming from Stiles, and he wonders if Scott and Liam can smell it too.

"She said she heard a voice saying "your condition improves"," Liam says. He's staring at Scott imploringly - and Brett knows how hard it is to be on the receiving end of one of those looks, so he's not exactly envious that it isn't aimed at him.

"Okay, that's unsettling," Stiles says, making for the door. "Hayden? This is Stiles, your sister works with my dad down at the station. Look, just open the door, okay? You can trust us."

Scott steps forward. "We just need to tell you the truth, Hayden," he murmurs. "And that kind of thing is usually better face to face."

Brett watches as Stiles flinches from the words, and he doesn't miss the look of panic crossing Liam's face either. He frowns at Liam, but Liam shakes his head.

"Listen, either you're gonna unlock the door or I'm gonna have to break it open," Scott continues. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk or if you're not ready to believe us, but I just... I gotta know that you're okay in there."

There's a long pause. No sound is forthcoming from the bathroom, and Liam hangs his head. 

Scott moves to break the door in when the lock clicks, unlocking, the only noise in the silent room. Scott begins pushing the door open.

Hayden is standing in the middle of the room, her hands raised to her chest, claws curving where her fingernails should be, fangs glittering and white in the light of the moon outside. Her eyes glow the same colour as Liam and Brett's.

"I believe you," she whimpers.


	8. Eight - Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at another update! Thanks to everyone who commented, viewed, kudo'd and bookmarked! Some smut and some fluff and some angst this chapter! Hope you all enjoy ^^

**Chapter Eight - Ghosts**  


They're bone-tired by the time they get back to Liam's house.

Brett strips to his boxers and flops on the bed, while Liam somehow musters the energy to brush his teeth and put on a clean white t-shirt. Brett likes the way Liam looks in white, the way it makes his skin seem tanner and his eyes bluer. 

Liam curls closer to him than usual, slinging a leg over Brett's hips and an arm over his chest. When Brett asks if he's alright, Liam's "I'm okay" is probably the least convincing thing he's ever heard. 

"You're hurting," Brett notes quietly. Liam's headache has been thrashing Brett's senses for at least an hour now, but he hasn't done anything about it, hasn't even tried. 

He strokes Liam's chest, absorbs the pain slowly, hoping Liam doesn't really notice. He does, of course, opens his eyes and says, "Why do you do that?"

"Because I can." He keeps stroking. "I'm taking you to see Satomi tomorrow," he murmurs. "About meditation. She can help."

"Will it help the headaches?"

"I hope so. Maybe." 

Liam nods. He's a warm, comforting weight on Brett's chest, his heart thumping steadily and calmly. He's relaxed, eyes closed, his nails scratching lightly at Brett's hipbone. Brett wants to look but he's tired too, worried about what the next day will bring. 

Hayden is a chimera. The Doctors tried to get her tonight and failed, which means they're going to try again, and Brett's not going to be there because he goes to a different school. He's seriously considering begging Satomi to let him transfer. 

"Brett," Liam mumbles. "Stop. Just sleep."

He thinks it might be the first time Liam's told him to do that instead of the other way around, so he tries to obey, closing his eyes and listening to Liam's heartbeat until his own slows down and he feels slumber lapping at the edges of his consciousness.

They can work out what to do tomorrow. 

~*~

"Tomorrow" finds Brett waking up to the sound of Liam emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He stumbles out of bed, finds Liam on his knees, gripping the sides of the toilet with white-knuckled hands, gasping for air around bouts of retching. The last time Liam vomited it was because he was drugged, so if Brett takes a slightly abnormal interest in the colour of his puke, well, that's his business.

"Sorry," Liam croaks.

Brett sits down beside him. "Withdrawal?" he asks.

Liam nods, his back tense as he leans over the bowl again. Brett's always thought that listening to someone's breathing right before they puke is worse than it actually happening, because it's the before part that's the worst. Liam's breathing is laboured like he's run twelve miles, irregular and heaving.

"This is why I'm not meant to go on and off it whenever I like," Liam croaks. "Because it does this."

Brett frowns. "Liam... did you talk to anyone about going off it?"

He doesn't get an answer; Liam's busy pitching his body back over the toilet bowl. Brett rubs his back sympathetically, waiting until the worst is over until he prompts, "Well?"

"No," Liam mumbles.

"Liam..."

"You said I had to go off to see if the meditation worked," Liam rasps. "And it's not going to work if I take half a dose because that's still taking it, right? So I didn't ask anyone because then they'd know and my therapist would tell my parents and my parents would freak and fly home and-"

"Okay," Brett interrupts. "I get it." 

Liam rests his forehead on his arm, breathing deeply, before lifting it back up and going back to puking. Brett isn't really that fussed by puking; it's needles he can't handle very well. 

"You okay?" he asks when Liam's done.

He hears him swallow and watches as he nods shakily. "Uh huh. Think I'm okay for now."

Brett rubs the back of Liam's neck sleepily, watching as he relaxes with the touch. "You sure?" he asks, his voice still low and raspy with sleep. "We could take the day off school."  
Liam sits back. He's a little shaky, but Brett pretends not to notice. "I'm the one puking," he says weakly. "Why are you taking a day off?"

"To be your nursemaid." Brett smiles. "I'd wear a little outfit for you. I don't care if you don't do it for me." 

Liam gives a feeble laugh and begins to stand, flushing the toilet on his way up. "There's no nursemaid outfits that would fit you, you giant freak," he says. "And I'm going to school."

Brett knew Liam was tenacious, but not like this. "If you're going to school," he says, "afterwards, maybe we should try meditation."

Liam nods. "Okay." 

He doesn't say anything when Liam skips breakfast, opting instead for a glass of water and some Pepto-Bismol he finds lurking in the cupboard. He looks pale and worn out, but when Brett asks, all he says is that he didn't sleep very well.

Brett knows. They might've been wiped, and Brett could've easily fallen into a near-coma, but Liam tossed and turned, fighting off invisible attackers and waking at least once an hour, if not more. They don't talk about it, though; the nightmares stay in the dark, and that's the only place Brett's willing to address them for now. 

He's following Liam back upstairs to get dressed when he catches a whiff of him. "Hey," he says. "Stop."

Liam stops where he is, turning to face Brett. He's a stair above, and Brett noses at his chest, frowning.

"You could at least be subtle about sniffing me," Liam huffs. 

"Why would I do that?" He takes another sniff. "You smell different," he says, surprised. "Like... not-you."

Liam smiles faintly. "Not-me?"

"Yeah." Something about Liam's scent has definitely changed; Brett follows closely as Liam walks into his room and pulls his white t-shirt off, rooting around for different clothes to wear to school. He's trying to pinpoint the change. 

"It's the Risperdal," he says suddenly.

It's at least ninety degrees out and humid today, but Liam's pulling on a long-sleeved grey shirt, a pair of jeans, and a baggy green t-shirt over the top of the first. He's shivering faintly. "I'm not taking it," he says defensively.

"No I - I know. That's why you smell different, because you aren't. I've never smelled you when you haven't been," Brett says, surprised. "I didn't know that could happen." He steps a little closer, wary when Liam takes a step back in turn. "Hey," he says gently. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah. I'm cold." 

Brett steps forward and wraps Liam up, nuzzling the side of his neck. "Brett," Liam mumbles, pushing at his chest. He's embarrassed; his scent, and the flush Brett can feel working its way up his neck and face, gives him away. "I'm not really that..."

"Maybe I just wanted to hug you, dork," Brett says. "And I like how you smell like this."

Liam finally hugs him back, awkwardly. Brett leans away.

"You aren't very into hugging, are you?" he asks.

"I'm not a cuddly person," Liam mutters. "Sue me." 

"Are you gonna be okay today?" Liam's whiter than a sheet, no colour in him, as he gathers his things for school. Brett's not really confident he will be, but he can't make Liam stay home.

"I'll be fine." Liam sighs when Brett massages the back of his neck soothingly. "If I'm not I'll come home. I'll let you know." He grabs a red hoodie as he goes to leave his bedroom. 

"Okay," Brett says. "Just don't drive yourself into the ground trying to prove you're okay. It's fine if you aren't."

Liam nods, but doesn't speak, and Brett can tell he's fighting down queasiness again. 

He drops Liam off at school, trying to ignore his chemo-signals, all of which are screaming to him that Liam should probably still be in bed, but Liam seems to be handling them okay, so who's he to argue?

He watches as Liam walks in and catches up to Mason, who claps him on the back, and then forces himself to drive away. Failing his classes isn't anything he needs to add to the list of things already going abysmally wrong for them.

~*~

 **From** : Liam Dunbar, 12:18PM  
Scott has a plan. Call me

It must be Liam's lunch hour, and Brett has his in about five minutes, so he waits until the bell rings and makes a beeline for the locker room, which he knows will be pretty much empty, to call Liam. 

"Okay," he says when Liam picks up. "What's this plan, then?"

"We're going to hide Hayden in the school," Liam says. "Something about supernatural ley-lines existing underneath it that might interrupt the frequency the Dread Doctors operate on. Scott thinks we might be able to hide her here."

"Okay," Brett says, "so - so we're just hiding her in the school all night?"

"Apparently." Liam sounds nervous; Brett can hear him pacing. "We aren't meant to come back until after dark, though, and I could really use some meditation right now." 

"Okay," Brett says. "We don't have a lot of class time left, so - are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm alright." It sounds like the truth, but Brett can't see his face or get a read on his emotional state so he doesn't know how true. "I have study hall with Mason and then gym. I can meet you somewhere if you want."

"I'll come get you," Brett murmurs. "Don't worry about that, okay, dude? I'll pick you up." Especially after this morning, Brett doesn't want Liam walking around in the heat. He knows Liam's not going to die from whatever he's got, but he doesn't want it to be worse. 

"Okay." Liam sounds subdued. "Thanks, Brett."

Brett nods, remembers Liam can't see him, and says, "No problem."

~*~

Liam's already waiting outside when Brett gets to the school. He's sitting on the steps, leg bouncing nervously up and down, staring at his phone. He's ditched the hoodie, wearing just a grey long-sleeved shirt and a baggy green tee over the top of it. 

"Hey," Brett says.

Liam looks up, spots his car, and heads towards it. He's still fidgeting with his phone, and when he gets in, Brett sees that it's Candy Crush again and suddenly the increased onslaught of Facebook invites to play make sense; Liam's out of lives again.

"You've got a problem," he says.

Liam looks alarmed. "What?"

Brett motions at the game.

"I just - I started playing it on Mason's phone when I got bored once," Liam says, clearly flustered. "And now I can't stop." 

Brett laughs. "We've all been there. Almost a year ago now, you're kind of late to the party, but we've all been there." He looks at Liam, takes in the healthy glow of colour in his cheeks and the steadiness of his hands. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Liam says. "I think I'm over puking at least. That's the only thing I really care about." He shudders, leaning back in his seat with his feet up on the dashboard. He's wearing jeans that are fitted snugly to his thighs and butt that get looser in the leg area; they look good on him. "I can deal with headaches and being shaky and moody," he says, "as long as I'm not puking anymore." 

"So you were okay in school?"

Liam gives him an apprehensive look. "Um. For most of it."

"Liam," Brett sighs.

"I didn't wanna bug you," Liam whines. "And Mason was there anyway. It was just the first two periods. After that I was fine."

"Were you sick?"

Liam chews his lip. "Yeah," he admits. "A few times. It was no big deal. I'm fine now."

Brett smiles, leans over, and gives Liam a quick kiss. He's gonna let the rest go; it's not like Liam was dying in a bathroom alone or anything. Someone was with him, someone who had handled it before. "Good," he says. "Ready to meditate?"

"Yeah? Uh - will Satomi be there?"

"Yep. Why?"

"How do I talk to her?" Liam asks blankly. "Do I talk to her formally? Or just - like I would to you?"

"Sort of formally," Brett says, and he's kind of happy that Liam's asked him that, because it really shows he cares. "Just follow my lead, yeah? She already likes you because she likes Scott." 

Liam nods, reaches out, and fiddles with the car's thermostat, turning up the air conditioning. The heat was still blasting from this morning - one of Brett's attempts to ease the shivering that didn't seem to have anything to do with temperature.

Liam's stomach grumbles, and Brett looks at him, amused. "Hungry?"

"Yeah." Liam looks self-conscious. "I didn't eat anything until lunch today."

"Glovebox," Brett says.

Liam leans forward and produces a bag of Hershey's kisses. "You pick the worst chocolate," he says, but that doesn't stop him from eating some. "Thanks." 

_Make sure your Liam is well-fed at regular intervals_ , Brett thinks absently. _Ensure your Liam has plenty of exercise and keeps cool in hot weather._

"Brett?" Liam asks.

"Sorry."

Liam sits up properly. "How far is it?"

"Not far." He gives Liam an appraising look. "Why? Do you feel sick again?"

Liam shakes his head. "Nah. Headache." 

It's hard keeping up with all of Liam's withdrawal symptoms, which seem to change with the wind and wax and wane unpredictably in their severity. Liam's hand is warm when he takes it, massaging his knuckles and slowly absorbing the pain. 

He doesn't let go when he's done, and Liam settles with his body angled toward Brett, playing on his phone with his free hand. Brett kind of wishes he could take a picture of that. He feels like the shit is going to hit the fan, so to speak, in the next few days, and he doesn't have any pictures of Liam - none that he took, anyway. The most he's got is Liam's dumb Facebook Profile picture, which is of Liam and Mason, in class, pulling faces.

At the next red light, Brett takes out his phone and snaps a quick photo, just as Liam looks up at him, about to question what he's doing.

"Did you just take a photo of me?" Liam's blushing faintly.

"Yep." Brett smirks, tucks his phone away. "First of many." 

"There's heaps on my Facebook, though," Liam says. There's a smile playing around his mouth. 

"Yeah, but they're all taken by other people and you don't even look like you want to be in most of them," Brett teases him.

Liam's smile is widening. "If you can take photos of me you can accept my Candy Crush invites," he says.

"So you're one of those players," Brett says. "You know, ninety percent of Candy Crush players just accepted the waiting period to get another life. And then there's people like you who harass everyone you've known since you were three to play so you get more lives." 

"I'm only harassing you and Mason and..." 

"And everyone on your friends' list?" Brett asks, reading the silence.

"You're right." Liam puts his phone away. "I have a problem."

"Try Fruit Ninja instead," Brett advises.

"So your advice is to trade one addiction for another?" 

"You won't have to beg people to download the app to keep playing," Brett says. "Doesn't that sound nice?"

They're at his pack's living complex; he parks around the back and steps out of the car. Liam grabs his things from the backseat and follows so closely behind Brett that he bumps into him when he stops at the gate.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"Nervous?"

"I've only ever been around you or Scott or Malia before," Liam reminds him. "I've never seen so many werewolves in one place. Are they all gonna know about us?"

"Probably," Brett says smugly.

"Oh, great." Liam shifts uneasily. "Will that be a problem?"

"No. They've already smelled you on me; they already know." They're buzzed in, and Brett leads the way through the winding hallways, ignoring the empty rooms as staunchly as he always does. He can sense Liam's mood changing; he's noticed them too.

They enter the common room, which is empty. "Satomi will be here soon," Brett says confidently. "You wanna sit for a while?" 

Liam nods. He looks overwhelmed, and it clicks for Brett suddenly that not only is Liam in an entirely new place, the scent of twenty other werewolves and what his nose tells him is a rival alpha is probably messing with his head. 

He's just making to sit, hands tight on the strap of his cross-body bag, when Brett grabs his arm and yanks him back up. "Come on," he says. "We'll go to my room." He can smell how uneasy Liam is in here and chastises himself; he never even thought that this might be strange for Liam, who's been a werewolf all of eight or nine months. 

Liam looks relieved, follows him out of the room and into his own. 

Brett's room isn't anything special, he doesn't think; bookshelf filled with a mix of fiction, school books and spiritual tomes gifted to him by his pack. A queen bed - because Brett's too tall to fit in anything else comfortably - a desk. The whole room gives off a muted yellowish glow, coming from the window, which Brett has covered with a tapestry because he was too lazy to hang up real curtains once he got them.

Liam stands in the middle of the room, pulls his bag off over his head. "This is nice," he says, and it rings true. "It's very Brett." 

Brett smiles; Liam's still nervous. He pushes Liam back into his bed, where his scent is the strongest, watching as Liam relaxes and slumps against the pillows. 

"Sorry," Brett apologises. "I kind of forget not everyone has a pack this big."

"It's okay." Liam stretches and yawns. "Your bed's comfy," he says sleepily.

"You can sleep if you want," Brett says. "The more focussed you are the easier meditation will be." He watches, amused, as Liam kicks his shoes off and nuzzles into Brett's pillow.

"Smells like you," he mumbles. 

"Thought you'd like that." Brett takes his own shoes off, reclines back until his head is somewhere in the vicinity of Liam's chest, his legs hanging off the side of the bed. He listens to Liam's breathing; he's not asleep, not even close, but he is resting, so Brett doesn't interrupt.

"We should come to yours more often," Liam mumbles. "Don't you miss it?"

Brett shrugs. This place was home, once, when the rooms were full and bursting with life and there was always someone to talk to or something to do, but it's felt hollow and empty since the deadpool. Even with Satomi and Lori here, even with twenty-something people left, it feels more like a cemetery than it does a place to live. They haven't touched the now-obsolete rooms; the scents of his dead pack members are still there, in their things, which have been left undisturbed. Even now, none of them are prepared to deal with it. 

"Not really," Brett says. He misses it the way it was before, a way it'll never be again, and it's easier to claim he doesn't than try to explain. 

He gives himself a mental shake, reminding himself that Liam's here with him now, which is nice. Things feel better when Liam's here. Not always okay, but better. Manageable. 

He twitches when he feels Liam bury his face in Brett's hair. His breathing is slowing down steadily as he drifts into sleep. Brett lets him, stays where he is with Liam's nose in his hair and the fingers of his left hand buried in it, until he's sure Liam is completely out of it.

He moves, slowly, covers Liam up with the blanket at the end of his bed, sits and watches him sleep. Liam's fingers are twitching like he's dreaming. 

Brett hates feeling so uneasy in this place, wishes he could clean out the rooms belonging to the members of his pack who didn't survive the deadpool. He thinks then it might feel less like a morgue and more like home. 

He looks at Liam. He spends a lot of time sleeping, but Brett hopes it's just because of the withdrawal from his drugs and that it'll pass soon. Otherwise it's going to be something to worry about. 

He senses Satomi well before she re-enters the complex and turns to Liam, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey," he says. "Wake up. Satomi's here."

Liam blinks at him drowsily. "How long was I asleep?"

Brett shrugs. "Twenty minutes. Barely enough to call it a nap." He wishes he could let Liam sleep longer. He seems like he needs it.

He leads Liam back out into the common area, and they've only just sat when Satomi enters. She smiles warmly at both of them.

Brett feels Liam relax. It's hard to be nervous around Satomi unless she really wants you to be. She wants Liam calm for meditation. Brett hopes he doesn't fall asleep; he used to, in the beginning, before he realised how beneficial it was.

"Brett," Satomi says, smiling. Brett leans down and touches his forehead to hers; it's a customary greeting to her in their pack, though they don't greet one another that way. 

"Satomi." His mother was the alpha of their family; nobody will ever replace her for Brett, but Satomi is his alpha now, and her presence soothes him. 

"Hello, Liam," Satomi says. Her voice is even, calm, like she might spook Liam off if she isn't careful. She's been alive a long time, though, and she can probably pick up nuances in Liam's scent and chemo signals Brett will never be able to; she probably knows something he doesn't. 

Satomi steps forward and touches her forehead to Liam's, gently, her hands on his shoulders. "It's nice to meet you properly," she says. "And to make a connection with another member of Scott's pack."

Liam's clearly not sure what to do; he lets his arms rest at his sides, but he leans his forehead on hers. "It's good to meet you," he murmurs. "Thank you for teaching me to meditate." 

She nods. "My pleasure." Her eyes roam Liam's form for a long minute, and no one speaks. Finally, Satomi says, "you're going through withdrawal, aren't you, Liam?"

Liam looks a little unnerved. Brett remains stoic but he is as well; he thought Liam was doing fine for now and he's been tuned into his scent and emotions since he got in the car and hasn't picked up anything.

"Yeah," Liam says finally.

Satomi smiles. "Sit down," she says, motioning to the cushions on the floor. "Brett, make some tea. Ginger root."

When he gets back from doing so, Satomi's off collecting things for their meditation session. Brett places the cup down on the low table in front of Liam and says, "What's going on?"

Liam looks at him nervously. "How did she know?"

"Satomi's the oldest werewolf any of us know of," Brett murmurs. "You won't get anything past the radar with her." He reaches out, touches Liam's knee; he's sitting cross-legged on his cushion. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing," Liam says, widening his eyes in a manner Brett assumes is meant to convey innocence. 

"Liam," Brett murmurs. "If you aren't feeling well..."

Liam sighs, and Brett knows just from that he's going to give it up. "Stomach cramps," he mumbles. "You didn't notice. How come Satomi did?"

"Same reason I said before." Brett nods at the tea. "Ginger root tea is meant to help with cramping," he says. "Try and have some." He shifts closer, bumps his forehead against Liam's, puts a hand on the back of his neck. "You're supposed to tell me these things," he whispers. "So that I can help you. Yeah?"

"I know." Liam does at least look guilty about lying. "I just... don't want to bother you." 

"It bothers me more when you lie about being okay," Brett says, "because I want to help you, but you've gotta tell me, dude."

Liam's eyes flicker over his face, eventually settling on Brett's. He's chewing his lip. "Okay," he says quietly. "I'll try." 

Brett hears Satomi's footsteps and gives Liam a quick, gentle kiss before shifting back onto his own cushion. Liam picks up the tea and sips at it, wincing when it burns his tongue.

"Shall we begin?" Satomi asks.

Brett drifts almost immediately, accustomed to meditation by now. He only vaguely listens to Satomi's instruction, more focussed on emptying his mind and relaxing into the safe, clean space in it he creates for himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he watches Liam and Satomi. Her voice is gentle, water over a rock, and Liam is calmer than Brett's probably ever seen him, eyes shut, body lax, serenity rolling off him in waves.

"Come back now, Liam," Satomi murmurs.

Liam blinks slowly. He's alert, not drowsy, but seems surprised that it worked at all. 

"Finish your tea," Satomi says. "That was excellent. I've never seen such a young wolf take to meditation so well."

Liam, predictably, blushes. "I had a good teacher." 

Satomi smiles at him and stands. When Liam makes to follow her up, she gestures for him to sit back down. "Let it affect you, Liam," she says. "I'm coming back soon."

Liam nods, picks up his tea, and sips it. He and Brett sit in silence for a while, until Satomi comes back carrying a bag.

"These are for you," she says to Liam. "The same incense and herbs we used today. Brett can show you how to use them properly at home."

"Thank you." 

Satomi takes her leave after that, to do something else undoubtedly - and Liam turns to Brett. "That was really good," he admits. 

Brett smiles at him as they head back to his room. "Yeah? We can do it together. There are other ways to meditate - you don't have to do it like that. You did well, though."

Liam's smile is almost shy when he looks back at him. "Thanks."

Liam tucks the gifts from Satomi into his gym bag, being careful about it. He fusses with the zip, and when he turns back around, Brett can see he's nervous about something.

"What's up?" Brett asks.

"Can I try something?" Liam asks. 

Brett nods. "Yeah," he says. "Of course."

Liam nods, moves into his space, and tilts his face up to kiss him. Brett has to bend his neck to facilitate it, but it's not like he cares - Liam's smaller than him and he kind of likes the height difference, likes the thought that he could shield Liam's body with his own if it came to that. 

He feels Liam hustling him slowly towards the bed and drops onto the mattress, letting Liam sit on his lap. He's got his hands tangled up in Brett's hair, and his tongue soon swipes at the crevice between his lips.

Brett lets him in. Liam's inexperienced but Brett's more than happy to teach him; Liam's fierce warmth in his lap, the slide of his soft, full lips, is worth every misjudged kiss.  
He groans when Liam pulls away from him, rocks his erection up into Liam's thigh. "Where are you going?" he complains.

"You'll see." 

Liam's sliding off him, then, forcing Brett to let go of his waist and lean back on his hands. He catches the briefest flicker of hesitation and nerves in Liam's face before he's sinking down on his knees, between Brett's legs, hands reaching for his jeans.

Brett's mouth goes dry. Is he-

"Is this okay?" Liam asks hesitantly.

"More than okay," Brett breathes. "As long as it's okay with you."

"I want to." The truth rings in the room. "But will people hear?"

"The rooms are soundproofed," Brett says, keeping his voice determinedly even as Liam pops open the button on his jeans. "For privacy."

Liam glances up at him as he pulls the zipper down. "For privacy?" he asks. "You mean... for stuff like this?" He noses at the swell of Brett's boxers. Brett's already hard; he's wanted this for so long, but he's never really been willing to ask. The only thing on his mind, right now, is whether Liam meant it when he said Brett could come in his mouth. 

Liam tugs at his jeans. Brett lets them slide off, along with his boxers, making a low noise in his throat when Liam grips the base of his penis and strokes it, torturously slow and unsure. 

"I don't really know what I'm doing," Liam admits nervously. 

"You'll do fine." Brett strokes his hair. "It's already good." 

Seeing Liam on his knees in front of him is doing something weirdly pleasant to his chest - he wants to return the favour when he's done, maybe finger Liam a bit, maybe more, if they have time, if more of his pack doesn't arrive home - they shouldn't, they all work long hours. 

Liam's mouth closes around the head, and Brett keeps his hips rigidly still. "Fuck, Liam," he whispers. "You're really going for it, huh?"

Liam looks up at Brett from under his eyelashes, then closes them, shuffling his knees a little. Brett strokes the back of his neck, head tilted back, mouth open. 

It feels so good to have Liam's tongue swirling around him that he gets almost completely lost in the sensation, feeling Liam begin to move his neck, awkwardly, because he's never done it before. Something about that is hot as hell - that no one's had Liam this way before, that Brett's his first everything, barring his first kiss, and-

He feels Liam scrape his teeth gently over the head. He's not sure if it's deliberate or not but he moans, embarrassed by the sound until Liam does it again, decides he doesn't care. Heat is pooling in his groin and stomach - he's going to come if Liam keeps this up. 

"Liam," he groans. He pushes his hips forward, trying not to choke him, but at the same time seeking something deeper. He remembers the tight, pressing heat of Liam around his fingers, the way he rocked back onto them desperately. He wants so badly to take it a step further today, to make him come apart a different way-

Liam makes a sound in his throat, and it vibrates all the way up. Brett clings desperately to the orgasm threatening to rush up his spine, looks down and sees that Liam's dick is straining against his jeans. He'll have to take care of that, not that it matters.

Is Liam getting hard from blowing him? That's the best thing ever. He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping the back of Liam's neck tightly, brings his head back down and says, "Liam, I'm gonna-" sees Liam's eyes flick up to his in acknowledgement and it's over.

He's gasping as he releases into Liam's mouth, thrusting in gently, seeing stars as pleasure races up and down his spine, sending him into a fit of pleasure-shivering. Liam's still licking, but gently, knowing it's going to be sensitive.

After a moment, he pulls away. He sits back on his calves, lips swollen and red and wet, and says, "was that good?" and Brett realises he swallowed.

"It was great," he says breathlessly. "Wasn't expecting that. Was it alright for you?"

Liam looks down at himself, like he's only just realised he's hard. "I guess so," he says with a low, rasping chuckle.

"Come up here," Brett murmurs. "Your turn."

Liam shivers with anticipation, climbs onto the bed and stretches out when he's directed to. Brett doesn't waste time being sensual as he yanks Liam's jeans and boxers off, pushes his shirt up. He wants this now, not five minutes from now. 

Liam begins trembling when Brett reaches into his bedside table and produces a tube of lube. "I was kinda hoping you'd do that," he admits. 

Brett looks up from between Liam's legs. "Might do something else as well," he murmurs, "but that's up to you, not me." He revels in Liam's eager, excited expression as he slicks a finger up. "You ready?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," Liam says keenly. 

Brett traces his hole for a moment before pushing in, drinking up the sight of Liam's eyes closing and his mouth falling open. He lets him get used to it before beginning to move, uses his free hand to slide a pillow underneath Liam's hips, and stretches out beside him, where he can see Liam's face close up.

"Good?" he murmurs. 

"Uh huh." Liam pushes back down, and Brett decides he's probably ready for another finger, takes a moment to slather it in lube and push inside before continuing his dialogue, covering the soft, needy noises Liam's making with speech.

"How long have you wanted me to do this?" he asks. 

Liam whines. "When you stayed over the first time," he moans. "I thought about it when I got off in the shower. Wanted you to do this."

"Oh yeah?" And if there's a smirk in Brett's voice it's because Liam is hard and leaking precome all over his own stomach, which is flat and smooth and almost completely hairless. "Why didn't you ask?" Brett murmurs. 

"Dunno." Liam opens his legs a little more, tilts his hips to experiment with angles. "Get that spot?" he asks breathlessly. "Please?"

"Since you asked nicely." Brett crooks his fingers, searching, and, after a moment, Liam gives a low moan and presses down around him needily. He's tight; if they're gonna do this, Brett's going to have to prep him carefully.

"Feels so good," Liam whispers. Brett's scissoring his fingers gently, trying to widen him up. "Did you do that last time?"

"No," Brett murmurs. He strokes down, puts a hand on Liam's mouth to muffle the cry he lets out. "Shh," he whispers teasingly. 

Liam nods, but his eyes are rolling back in his head and he's rocking back to meet the nudge of Brett's fingers against his prostate. When Brett inserts the third finger, it doesn't seem to hurt him; if anything, Liam's rapidly approaching his "no coherent thought" zone. 

Brett kneels between Liam's legs, watching his body writhe and undulate from the pressure of Brett's fingers inside him, and says softly, "you gonna come from this, baby?"

The last word falls out of his mouth, unbidden, but it sounds right to him. Feels right to say.

"Don't want to," Liam rasps. "Wanna come from something else."

Fuck. Yes. "Yeah? What's that?"

Liam levers himself up on his elbows. "You," he croaks. "Inside."

This is actually gonna happen. Liam wants it to. Brett's stoked. "Okay," he murmurs. "If you insist."

"I do." Liam flops back on the mattress, his back arched. "Come on," he whines. "Hurry up."

"Okay, okay." Brett grabs the lube and begins to cover himself in it, liberally, pulls his fingers out of Liam and smears some around there, too. "Are you sure?" he murmurs once he's hovering above him.

"Yeah," Liam whimpers. "Come on, Brett, please."

"Okay. But you have to tell me if it hurts, okay? I don't wanna hurt you. I'm not into that."

"I will." Liam tugs on Brett's hips. "Please-"

Brett leans down, guiding his dick to Liam's hole, presses lightly and watches as Liam's body gives way to him, accepting the head. He waits to see if it hurts, but Liam holds steady and his chemo signals only indicate pleasure. 

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispers as he pushes in, pulls out, and makes a shallow thrust. "You've got no idea..."

Liam's thighs are squeezing his sides, his heels in Brett's back. He doesn't seem to have words. He's got his hands fisted in the sheets, hips tilted up, mouth open.

"Fuck," Liam moans. "Brett, please-"

"Look at me," Brett says. "I wanna see your eyes."

Liam bites his lip, looking up at Brett. "Feels really good," he pants. 

"We've barely gotten started," Brett murmurs. "You trust me?"

"Yeah. Course."

He's not going to take that sentence and run with it; it's Liam's first time and even though Brett would very much like to fuck him till he screams, he's not going to. At least, not this time. His aim this time around is just to show Liam that it feels good. 

_Dunbar's turned me to mush_ , he thinks vaguely as he draws his hips back and pushes forward again.

"Fuck," Liam pants. "That's - yeah."

"Jesus, Liam," Brett smirks. "This is going to blow your mind."

"I hope I blow something else instead," Liam shoots back.

Brett grips Liam's hips, looks down to where he's sliding in and out easily now, the way Liam's body accepts him readily and hungrily. "Fuck," he says unsteadily. "You really have no idea how long I've wanted-"

He looks up to find Liam craning his neck to watch too.

"You like watching?" Brett pants. He thrusts forward, a little harder than he really intended, and Liam's head drops back to the pillow, his throat arched forward, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth open in a silent plea.

"Seems about right," Brett groans, picking up speed. "Maybe one day I'll fuck you in front of your mirror so you can watch yourself come."

"Oh, God," Liam whimpers. "If you keep saying stuff like that-"

"You'll come?" 

Liam nods breathlessly.

"If you come I'm just gonna fuck you until you come again," Brett huffs. 

Liam uses his heels, digs them into Brett's lower back, and yanks him in close. Brett's honestly sort of surprised Liam is this good at it already, but he shouldn't be, really; Liam's always been good at knowing how to get a reaction, how to move, and this isn't too different.

"Jesus," Brett breathes as he slides further in. Liam wriggles down until Brett's sheathed inside, to the base, whines. 

"I like you, Dunbar," he pants as he begins thrusting in earnest. "I really do."

He gets his hands under Liam's thighs, digs his fingers into the muscles above his knee, pushes his legs back slightly. Liam cries out at the change in angle.

"Good?"

"Fuck," is the only answer he gets, so Brett does. 

"God," he says, leaning forward slightly. "You're so tight." He's not sure if that sounds like a line from a bad porno but it's all he can think about; the tight squeeze of Liam around him, the heat, the dampness. He drops one of Liam's legs, hustles him over onto his side, and holds the other one up. 

Liam's eyes roll back in his head. It's a bit freaky, for a moment, just seeing the whites, but when they come back down, they're glowing golden at him. When Liam opens his mouth to lick his lips, he notices the fangs.

"That good?" he purrs, leaning in close.

Liam doesn't answer, but his moans are getting louder and louder even as he tries to choke them back, so Brett covers his mouth again. Liam's eyes roll up to glare at him. 

In retaliation, Brett picks up the pace, feeling Liam's breath puff helplessly against his palm, notices that he's squeezing tighter and tighter with every thrust and knows he's going to come soon. "You're close," Brett says smoothly.

Liam gives a particularly loud huff against his hand, his eyes closed and body wound so tight Brett wonders if it's painful.

"Am I gonna make you come, baby?" Brett coos, leaning down. "You like it when I pound you like this?"

Liam whimpers, startlingly loud, behind Brett's hand. He nods. He mumbles something, and Brett takes his hand off, leans closer.

Liam bites his lip when Brett slams his prostate, waits till the wave of pleasure is over, and says, "I'm so close."

"Yeah? You need some help?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just picks up the speed and intensity of his thrusts. Liam's biting down on his own hand, now, trying not to cry out. Brett's next thrust has his dick blurting a thick stream of precome, and Brett feels his lower body wind up, tense, knows before Liam takes his fist out of his mouth what's happening. 

"Brett - _Brett_ -" The rest trails off into gasping that becomes increasingly higher-pitched, Liam gets his hand around his dick and then his muscles are contracting violently as he whimpers and comes, shooting so forcefully he gets it on his own chest. 

Brett feels his own orgasm approaching and hurries to say, "Liam, where-"

He doesn't get to finish; Liam's still wringing the last of his orgasm out as he whimpers, "In me," and Brett loses it, just like that - slams forward a few more times and feels Liam clench down around him as he comes, rocking forward and shooting deep inside Liam. 

He slumps when he's done, right onto Liam's body, not caring that they're sticky. They'll just have a shower. Liam's heartbeat is thundering against his.

"You okay?" Brett croaks.

Liam nods. "That was awesome," he says, hands idly stroking Brett's back. "I love meditation."

It takes Brett a moment to get the joke, but when he does, he starts laughing tiredly. "Come on," he says, levering himself upright and pulling out of Liam, as gently as he can. "Shower." 

Liam grimaces. "I'm sticky."

"I'll clean you up," Brett promises. "Deal?"

~*~

They head back to Liam's house for a bit after they've showered. It's still light out but there isn't much to do at Brett's, so they play some more Mortal Kombat and Liam makes them spaghetti for dinner.

"I didn't know you could cook," Brett says.

"Don't be fooled." Liam's straining the pasta. "This is the only thing I can make."

The sun begins to fall as they eat dinner, and Liam's shoulders hunch. "What if it doesn't work?" he murmurs. "If something goes wrong..."

"It'll work," Brett says. "You said Scott has a plan." 

Liam nods, but he reeks of anxiety. "We're supposed to pick Hayden up," he murmurs. "She didn't really want to go with anyone else." 

"Okay. We'll leave soon. Take a jacket. In case it's cold."

Liam smiles wanly. "Okay, Mom." 

Liam ends up taking one of Brett's jackets. He wears it for a while, then abandons it on the back seat. Brett idles in the driveway at Hayden's house as Liam goes up the steps to get her.

He hears Hayden apologising for punching Liam in the face and smiles a bit, because Liam really shouldn't have roared in her face to prove his point - there are probably a thousand gentler ways to clue someone in about the supernatural that Brett can think of. 

"Hey," he says as Hayden gets into the car.

She looks nervous, scared. "Hi," she says. "Are you part of the plan?"

Nobody really asked him to be, but he's not leaving Liam and Hayden alone, especially given half the pack isn't even going to be there tonight. "Yeah," he says. "Guess I am." 

She's looking at him sort of strangely. Brett realises she must be picking up Liam's scent all over him and his all over Liam; he wonders how much she really knows. Liam's been walking around smelling like him for a while but if Hayden didn't know what he smelled like before, this must be strange for her. 

Liam, looking nervous, turns the radio on. They drive in silence, mostly, to the school, with only some misguided attempts at conversation made on Liam's part. Brett's always known that Liam doesn't deal well with silence when he's nervous so he shrugs it off, but Hayden looks distinctly put off by the chatter. 

Lydia lets them into the back of the school when they get there, telling them that Malia and Parrish are already elsewhere. They spend almost half an hour barricading the boys' locker room, shifting cages and shelving units until it's secure - no way in or out. 

It's only the five of them in the locker room. Stiles is with Theo somewhere, and Kira isn't here either. That makes Brett nervous; Kira's pretty good with a sword and he'd feel better if she was here.

"You should sleep," Brett says to Liam.

They're sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the locker room, touching all the way from their ankles up to their shoulders. Liam's a warm weight, leaning ever so slightly against him, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

He shakes his head. "Can't sleep," he says. "Too nervous."

Brett nods at Hayden, who's dozing on Liam's shoulder. "She's okay." 

Liam doesn't do anything, though Brett can imagine he'd shrug if he could. "I don't want anything to happen to her," Liam admits awkwardly. "I just don't want anyone else to die." 

Brett agrees wholeheartedly there. He wants to put his arm around Liam, but he also doesn't want to disturb Hayden's sleep, and so he stays where he is. Instead, he tangles his fingers with Liam's and squeezes his hand.

He doesn't sleep. He sees, from the corner of his eye, Liam's eyes fluttering tiredly, like he can barely keep them open. Eventually, his head settles with a slight thump against Brett's shoulder, and he knows that if Liam isn't asleep, he will be soon.

Maybe they will make it to morning. He meets Scott's eyes across the locker room - Scott, who knows about them, Liam says, and hasn't made so much as one move to threaten Brett or assert his status as alpha over either him or Liam. 

Scott stands up and walks over to him, sits down on the bench across from them. "Thank you," he says.

Brett blinks. "For what?" Liam's scenting him, nosing at his shirt sleeve sleepily.

"Getting that senior, Justin, to back off," Scott says.

Brett has to think for a moment before it clicks. It was so long ago, and circumstances between him and Liam were so different, that he barely remembers it. "It's fine," he says. "He's a fucking creep." 

"You must have said something we didn't," Scott says. "Because it didn't work when we tried."

"It was mostly Stiles threatening to get him arrested," Brett says with a slight shrug. Liam grumbles. "But I did tell him I'd break his neck if he went anywhere near Liam again."

Scott looks a little surprised. "You're Buddhist."

"He didn't know that." 

Scott nods, looks at the ground. "We haven't been there," he says. "Not the way we should have. Especially me."

Brett keeps his face carefully blank. There's a reason Scott's a true alpha, and he respects that, but he doesn't hold his recent conduct in high esteem. He wants to tell Scott that he could have done better, but he doesn't.

"I'm glad you were there," Scott says. "To help him. I don't know what's going on with him. Nobody does except you. He doesn't tell us much." 

Brett nods. "I know that feeling." Liam's awful at pretending to be fine, but he's pretty good at stubbornly not telling anyone why he isn't. He's got trust issues a hundred miles long, probably from the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father. Brett wonders if Scott knows about that. 

"Brett."

He looks at Scott again.

"I'm going to find out who drugged him and tried to hurt him," Scott says. "I'm going to do something."

"We might never catch them," Brett says.

"We will. We have to." Scott stands. "You should join them," he says, motioning at Hayden and Liam, who are asleep, Hayden leaning on Liam and Liam leaning on Brett and Brett keeping them both upright. "They've got the right idea."

He nods, settles back, and closes his eyes, seeking out Liam's scent by tilting his face to his hair. Liam doesn't stir.

Brett's dozed off enough to barely notice when Liam lifts his head and slides out from between him and Hayden.

He comes around when the soft sound of a zipper opening fills his ears, lifts his head to find Liam pulling thick, heavy chains out of a sports bag placed on the bench. Scott whips around, and the only way Brett knows how to identify his expression is to call it guilty.

"What're we gonna do with these?" Liam asks. His tone begs Scott to offer up a reasonable explanation for them. 

"We brought them just in case."

"In case of what?" Liam demands.

"In case we have a chance to catch one of them." Lydia's anxious; she's the first to give up the game, and Liam looks at her, imploring and desperate.

"If we can't make the school a fortress, maybe we can make it a trap." Scott's clearly pleading his case, his hands up in a placating gesture as he walks towards Liam. 

"They're coming for her." Liam jerks his chin at Hayden, who's awake and watching, afraid. "Does that mean she's the bait?"

"Liam, we brought her here to protect her," Lydia says. Liam throws the chains down, turns to face them as Hayden and Brett stand up. His face is livid.

"And now she's the bait."

"Am I the bait?" Hayden asks.

"No. No one's bait," Scott insists. "But we can't be bodyguards to everyone every night." 

"Then why aren't we talking to Stiles' dad?" 

"Liam," Brett interrupts, but Liam talks over him.

"Why aren't we doing something better than hiding in a school?" He's angry again, glaring at Scott like it's his fault. 

"Because we still don't know anything about them or what they want," Scott says firmly. "Okay? They're winning, and we don't even know what the game is!"

"What if they come in here, and those things don't work?" Liam demands, pointing at the cell phone jammers positioned around the room. "What if you have an asthma attack again? What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know." 

"This plan sucks!" It's probably the only time Brett's ever heard Liam raise his voice at Scott with that particularly inflection of betrayal and fear. 

"You got a better one?" Scott snaps. "Kids are dying and she's next! So somebody has to do something, somebody has to save everyone so _somebody's gotta be the bait_!" Scott's yelling now too, stepping into Liam's face. 

Brett smells it right away - the solar flare of Liam's rage, blindingly hot and intense in the face of Scott's plan, and is stepping forward to reign him in, to remind him to breathe - Liam's heart rate is increasingly rapidly and he knows he'll change if he's not careful - when the anger recedes.

Brett pulls Hayden away from the conflict; her heartbeat is slamming his ears, loud and invasive, and Brett knows he can't step in here - it's Scott's pack and Scott's business and he agrees with both of them, not that either of them will like hearing that.

There's a brief moment of tense silence before Liam gives a short, annoyed sigh and takes a slow, controlled step forward. His hands are shaking, claws dug into his palms. "Scott," he murmurs. "Promise me you'll do everything you can to save her." 

Brett closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see either of their expressions; he knows this night isn't going to end well, just doesn't know for who. Hayden's fear is cloying in his nose, taking up all the room in his sinuses. 

"Scott," Liam says again. "Promise."

"I'll do everything I can." Scott's not lying - his heartbeat doesn't give him away - but something about the phrase sounds lacklustre, less than completely honest even if it isn't an outright lie. "I promise."

"Guys?" Hayden's voice calls him back; he opens his eyes. "I think I might a little help right now." She's rifling through her bag, straightens up. "I forgot my pills. I have a bottle in my locker, I can get them but I-"

"I can get them," Scott interrupts. Liam looks at him gratefully, and Scott nods, turns back to Hayden. "What's your combination?"

They agree on a plan. Scott will go get the pills while Lydia keeps watch for him; Brett, Liam and Hayden will stay in the locker room. Brett helps Scott shift the barricade in front of the locker room door.

"Be careful," he says.

Scott nods. Something's not right with him, but Brett can't work out what it is. He retreats back into the room with Hayden, who's sitting on the floor near her bag, and Liam, who's pacing up and down the length of the locker room.

Brett takes his arm as he passes by. "Liam," he says softly.

"What?" Liam snaps.

Brett looks at Liam's hands pointedly. They're dripping with blood; he's still got his claws sunk into his palms. "Come on," he says. "Don't do that. It's alright. Scott promised you, remember?" Brett rubs his arms slowly. "It'll be fine," he says softly.

Liam nods, closing his eyes as he unfurls his fists, allows the wounds to heal. He goes to the sink in the corner to wash them.

"He should've been back by now." He turns to Brett, eyes dark in the cold, bleached half-light of the locker room. "Hayden's locker is right next to mine. It's just down the hall. He should've been back by now." 

Brett looks to the door. To his surprise, Lydia's gone too; she was meant to be keeping watch. "If he's not back soon I'll go," he says. 

Liam's nibbling on his lip. "Do you think they'll come?" he asks quietly.

Brett looks over at Hayden, who seems to have gone back to sleep against the lockers. "Yes," he says, because there's no point in lying. "Even if it's not tonight." 

"Do you think they'll try tonight?"

Brett nods. 

Liam's face falls; he begins looking around the room anxiously. Brett remembers, then, that Liam's still fighting withdrawals and that anxiety is meant to be one of the symptoms; he puts his hands on Liam's face and pulls him in close.

"What-"

He kisses Liam softly, slotting their mouths together, willing his emotions to cross the bridge of their mouths and seep into Liam's pores and make him feel better. He has the overwhelming urge to gather Liam up and hold him, keep him safe, but the most he can really do is press Liam against the cold brick wall of the locker room, rest his elbows on the mortar and lean in so they're pressed against each other.

When he pulls away, Liam seems calmer, mouth open and slightly swollen, face tinged with a blush. His eyes traverse Brett's face slowly.

"What was that for?" he murmurs. 

Brett leans his forehead against Liam's, shakes his head slightly. "I wish we weren't here."

"Me too." 

It's been almost twenty minutes now, and even as Brett leans against Liam's smaller body, he knows that something's wrong. Scott should've been back and Lydia shouldn't have even left. He doesn't want to move from here, but he told Liam he'd check.

"They still aren't back." Liam's voice is small. "Maybe I should go. I know where it is."

"You're not going." Brett shakes his head. "I am. Barricade the door after I leave. Stay close to Hayden. Howl if you need me." 

Liam grabs his shirt as he makes to leave, looks like he wants to say something. He doesn't, just stares up at Brett with fear in his face. 

"I'll be fine," Brett assures him. "I'll be back before you have time to miss me, dork."

He's hoping Liam will snark back at him, but he doesn't. He just follows him miserably to the door, watches as Brett steps out into the hallway. "It's just down the hall," he says. "Down the stairs, to the left, first one in the row." 

Brett nods.

"Do you need the combination? I can wake her up."

"I don't need the combination." He's going to rip the fucking thing off and bring the pills back without screwing around. "Barricade the door," he reminds Liam. "See you soon."  


Liam nods, backs away, and shuts the door.

Brett turns around. The school is eerily lit with a not-quite full moon, corners dark, locker grills the gaping maws of supernatural creatures. Everything is silent. He can't hear any noise that would indicate Lydia or Scott are out here.

He takes a deep breath and begins down the hallway. Hayden's relying on this medicine. Needs it, according to Liam, for a kidney transplant she had a few years ago. Scott and Lydia have fallen through so it's up to him.

"Brett."

He whips around, instinctually about to tell Liam to go back, but there's no one there and it's a female voice that's spoken anyway, somewhere off to his right.

 _Down the stairs, first locker on the left_. He's curious, but not enough to abandon what he's doing. He's here for a reason.

"You shouldn't be out this late, hon. It's not safe."

That's his mother's voice. It's been so long since he heard it he didn't recognise it at first; the flash of shame and guilt makes him turn around. He didn't recognise his own mother's voice. When did he start forgetting?

"Mom?" he asks.

She's standing there, but he can't see her very well, hidden in a patch of shadow. He hesitates. He knows he's meant to get Hayden's medicine, but it's his mom. His mom, who ran into the fire when Brett was twelve and... and. They never told him what happened after that. If it was the fire or the hunters who got her first. 

"Why are you out, sweetie?" She steps towards him, but not into the light. "It's late. You should be in bed."

There's a reason he's here but it won't quite come back to him, now, his mind foggy with the image of his mother in front of him. He can't make out her face. Something about it is... indistinct.

"Someone needs help," he says. He feels confused.

"Who could need help more than us, sweetie?" Her voice is still soft, but deadly now, cold. "Who could need more help than we do?"

She steps into the light, and she's covered with burn wounds, eyes missing, veins black webs from wolfsbane and mountain ash where her skin isn't scarred. Brett steps back.  


"You left us in there to die, Brett," she says.

"No I - Lori needed me, I was a kid, I didn't-" He steps back, blinking back tears. "I didn't mean to-"

She's standing in front of him and her hand fastens around his throat, bruising and crushing in the way only an alpha's can be, her mouth filled with rows of long, sharp teeth. 

"We needed you!" she roars.

He tries to answer but he's choking, her claws digging into his throat. He feels the blood but doesn't smell anything and he yells, even as she tears at his jugular-

A sharp pain on his chest cuts his yelling off, and he thrashes with his legs, claws extended, roaring in pain and fear, only to find Mason standing there with a scalpel in his hand.  


He looks around, frantic. His mother is gone. He's not bleeding. He was hallucinating. The whole thing-

Hayden's medicine. Liam and Hayden in the locker room. Mason's talking, but Brett's not taking in the words.

"Hayden and Liam," he pants. "Where are-"

"I don't know, I found you and Scott like this, he's with Malia and Lydia-"

Brett gets up, races up the stairs three at a time, knows before he enters the locker room that something bad has happened because the door is open and fear hangs heavy in the air, a cloying, sweat-soaked blanket, and the cages they used to barricade the door are on the floor, things tipped everywhere-

He hears the rest of them enter behind him, smells the change in Mason's scent, the anguish that threatens to swallow him, and Malia says, "They're gone. Liam and Hayden are gone."

_I told him I'd be back before he could miss me._

_I told him it'd be fine._

_Liam and Hayden are gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun.


	9. Nine - Search And Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16k. I could've made this two chapters but nah. Also, I'm going away as of tomorrow so there won't be an update until at least saturday! Thanks so much for supporting this story, it means the world to me ^^ hurt/comfort and angst abound!

**Chapter Nine - Search and Rescue**

_Liam and Hayden are gone._

_What if he howled and I didn't hear? What if he howled and I didn't hear because I was too wrapped up seeing my dead mother? What if he howled and it's too late for me to get to him because he's already-_

Brett stops his train of thought right there. He can't afford to keep going with it; he's rushing through the woods, covering opposite ground to Scott and Malia, desperately searching for Liam or Hayden's scent even though it ended right outside the high school and nobody has been able to pick it up again.

_Howl, Liam. Damn it, fucking howl._

But there's nothing. Utter silence. No sign or scent of Liam anywhere, not a flicker of his howl, nothing. Brett stops where he is, presses his hands back into his eyes to try and crush his tear ducts before they can betray him.

He doesn't have time to panic. Liam needs him thinking and focussed. Liam needs him to be fucking ready.

_I told him it'd be fine._

_I wasn't there._

_Liam and Hayden are gone._

He turns when he hears Scott's roar, the bellow of an alpha, shake the trees, recognises it for what it is - a call to come back. But Scott isn't Brett's alpha and he doesn't have to do what Scott demands he does, especially not now that he's lost his fucking beta, he's lost _Liam_ -

He heads back. If anyone can find Liam it'll be his pack. But he's angry. His wolf is howling in agony, barely trapped in the cage of his ribs by the control Brett's been fighting for his whole life, ready to let loose and hurt someone. He wants to let it loose, let it tear and bite and scratch and maim and _kill_ , but that's not going to help anyone, especially not Liam-

He finds Scott and Malia in a clearing at the edge of a cliff, staring out across Beacon Hills. They turn when Brett approaches them.

"Anything?" Malia asks.

Brett shakes his head. "They're gone." _Liam's gone_. His gorge rises, fear and panic and despair rising up and engulfing him. They're gone. They're in the hands of homicidal maniacs that so far have a track record for not letting anyone live. 

Scott puts a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna find them, Brett," he says sincerely. "I promise. We're gonna find them." 

It's beginning to dawn on him that he's shaking. "I shouldn't have left the locker room," he says. "I should've stayed-"

"And then they'd have you too," Malia says, "and we'd be down one more search party member."

Brett likes her. She's smart. Not in the way Stiles or Lydia or Mason are, but world-smart, kill-or-be-killed smart. 

"There's no scent," Scott pants. "No tracks. No way to find them."

"But if Liam heard you howl, he can howl back, right?" Malia asks.

"Only if he heard." The panic is evident in Scott's voice, and it's beginning to seep into Brett as well, because he's got a point. What if Liam can't howl back because he's unconscious or hurt? What if he just can't hear?

"Where are Kira, Stiles and Theo?" Malia asks. "We need as much help as we can get. We need to find them." 

"You call Stiles and Theo," Scott says, distracted. "They were together. I'll find Kira. Brett, go back to my place, talk to the others, okay? Wait for us there."

"We can't wait," Brett snaps. "Liam and Hayden-"

"I know!" Scott yells. "But we don't have any leads-"

"And we won't if we stop looking!" 

Scott holds his breath for a moment, then turns. His phone is buzzing. "Corey is at my place," he says shakily. "He's a chimera. He might know something. Go back there and I'll meet with you, I promise. We're gonna find him." 

"I'll go with you," Malia says. 

He nods. He wants to keep looking. But if Corey knows something, he has to try.

_Howl, Liam._

~*~

Brett's been watching the clock for two hours, seventeen minutes and some spare change, and that's only been since he got into Scott's bedroom. Mason's got his head down, in grief Brett supposes. 

He looks at Corey. The kid's clearly nervous as hell, but he's slowly reading the book, which, predictably, he knew nothing about. He doesn't think Liam did either. Not that it helps Liam much now anyway. 

Lydia's standing in the corner when she gets the text, puts her phone away once she's read it. "Scott's on his way back," she says. 

Brett breathes a sigh of relief. If Scott's on his way back they can get on with the search. 

"Could you catch a scent?"

It's Mason, looking at Brett with eyes that beg for good news. Brett wishes he could give it to him. "No," he says. "Their scents stopped right outside the high school. The Doctors smashed all the cell phone jammers."

"What if you howled?" Mason asks.

"Scott already tried," Brett says.

"Recently?" Mason presses. "Did you? Is there some kind of freaky werewolf thing that would make him hear you instead of Scott?"

"He's a werewolf too?" Corey asks weakly.

Brett flashes his eyes, not in the mood to do acrobatics to get someone to believe him today. "I haven't howled," he answers softly.

"You should try," Mason says. "Seriously. Try." His brown eyes are on Brett, desperate, pleading. Mason is Liam's best friend. If anyone is as out of their mind with worry as Brett is, it's him. 

Brett stands up. He needs to move anyway, needs to feel like he's doing something useful. He heads downstairs, past Malia, Theo and Stiles, all of whom let him pass without asking anything, though they do look.

Some time has passed. If Liam really was just unconscious, he might be awake now, able to howl back. Or, if he's injured, maybe he has enough strength-

Brett gets barely five hundred metres from Scott's house before he feels the roar building up in his throat. He needs Liam to be okay. He's not ready to lose anyone else. Not like this, not this soon, not Liam. Not Liam, ever. 

_Howl back, Liam,_ he thinks as his bellow echoes around the trees. _Howl back. Come on. Just once-_

Nothing. The woods are silent. Brett chokes down the sob threatening to escape his throat. He swore he'd protect them both and they're both gone, and how is he gonna call Liam's parents, tell them their son is-

He can't think about that either, paces back and forth anxiously on the spot. The leaves under his feet crunch, sparking a headache as he listens, desperately, for Liam's howl back with his wolf hearing, comes up short.

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his photos, eventually settling of the one he took of Liam in the car only a few short hours ago, when the sun was up and they felt out of the reach of the Dread Doctors. Liam's not looking at the camera, and what Brett needs right now is to see his eyes.

_I never took any other pictures of him_. The realisation is devastating. All he has as tangible proof that Liam existed in his life at all is this single photo and his own memory.

He puts his phone away, raises his hands, locks them together behind his head and tries to get control of his breathing, because all the oncoming breakdown is going to do is remind him of that time in Liam's bathroom when Liam was crying and shutting himself down, shutting himself off, and Brett stayed. Because somehow, Liam has slotted himself into a perfectly-shaped slot in Brett's existence and he can't forget that, not now.

He lowers his arms. Standing around out here isn't doing anyone any good; he gives one last look to the tree line before heading back to the house. Nobody is in the living room; Scott's bike is out the front, on its side. He heads upstairs.

When he rounds the corner, he finds everyone crowded into Scott's room. Corey is on the bed, his back rigid, with Scott standing above him. His claws are buried in the back of Corey's neck, blood leaking from them.

He lurches forward. "What the hell is he doing?" he breathes out.

"He's tapping into his memories," Stiles says.

"Has he ever done it before?" 

"Not like this," Lydia says.

Brett swallows. It's dangerous enough when the alpha knows what they're doing and has time to do it safely, but like this? With Scott panicky and making rash decisions? This is going to be a disaster. 

"Is it as dangerous as it looks?" Theo asks.

"Probably more," Stiles mutters.

"Does anyone know if it's working?" Mason sighs.

Brett watches Corey's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids. "It's working," he says. 

They only have to wait a few more moments before Scott lurches away from Corey with a yell, pretty much scaring everyone half to death as he staggers halfway across the room.  
"Is he okay?" Scott pants.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Corey demands, and Brett swears this kid has got to be the whiniest he's ever come across. Not that he really blames him, but still. 

"You'll be alright." He definitely doesn't blame Corey when Scott's being so blasé about what he just did - sinking his alpha claws into the back of Corey's neck is definitely violating him in some twisted supernatural way.

"There's blood."

"You'll heal."

Lydia and Stiles share a startled look. "Scott," Stiles begins.

"He'll be fine!" Scott yells.

"Dude," Brett says. "You just sank your claws into his neck and you're confused about why he's pissed?"

Everyone ignores him. "Listen," Scott says. "I think it worked. I saw something - there were tunnels-" He's drawing on a pad of paper frantically as he says it, stumbling over the words - "pipes on the walls, there were these two huge blue pipes at the entrance, two on both sides."

"I know this," Stiles says, who's leaning over Scott's shoulder to look. "I've seen this before. It's one of the tunnels I used to skateboard in. Remember my dad caught me one time, told me to never go back?"

"It's the water treatment plant," Lydia says.

"That's where they are," Scott says. "That's where we'll find Liam and Hayden."

"How do any of you know any of this?" Brett demands. "I mean for sure." He's trying not to get his hopes up; they might have been moved by now, or dead, Liam didn't answer his howl and they've been gone for hours now-

"We don't," Stiles says. "But it's a start." 

~*~

"Brett should come with us," Malia says.

He wants to. God, he wants to. It's been decided, somehow, despite Stiles and Lydia pleading with Scott to just stop and think for a second, that Scott, Mason and Malia will go to the plant to look for Hayden and Liam. 

He wants to go. But at the same time, he can't leave three pretty much defenseless people alone with Theo. And if something happens to Scott, Malia and Mason, there still needs to be someone left to rescue them - and Liam and Hayden. "I'm gonna stay here," he says. "Call my pack, ask for help."

"Good, that's good," Scott says. "Let us know if you find anything." 

They leave. Stiles says something about going to the hospital to warn his father about the bodies, departs straight away. 

The only thing Brett can think of doing is getting a hand towel and mopping Corey's neck. When he pulls it away, the skin is unbroken, clean.

He's never seen anyone heal from alpha wounds that quickly.

"It healed, didn't it?" Corey's accurately judged the cause of his silence. 

"Yeah," Theo says as Brett tucks the towel absently into his pocket. "Completely."

"Okay." Corey stands up, turning to glare at them. "Well, it's been fun. Especially the part where a werewolf forced his way into my brain with his claws." Corey looks pretty pissed. Brett really can't blame him for that. 

He makes to leave, and Theo steps forward. "I don't think leaving is such a good idea, Corey. You know, Lydia's a banshee. That means she can tell when someone's close to death. Lydia, what happens if he walks out that door?"

_How the hell is she possibly supposed to know that?_ Brett thinks sourly as Lydia flails for an answer.

"It's bad," she says eventually.

Brett can't believe either of them. He's got nothing to lose by trying to get Corey to talk, so that's what he does.

"Corey," he says softly, "I know you're freaking out. Dude, you aren't wrong. It's weird stuff. But we really need to find Liam and Hayden. They could be dying." He tries not to really consider that. "So if there's anything else you remember..."

Corey sighs in frustration, but as Brett watches, his expression develops into one of recognition. "There was a basement," he says. 

"Where? Like in a building?"

"A house. It was old, covered in dust, and there was a broken stone wall with a large hole in it like a bomb went off."

"We need to tell Scott," Lydia says.

~*~

He pairs up with Theo in the end.

They call Scott to deliver the news, and Scott and the others head to the house while Theo and Brett go for the water filtration plant. If Liam and Hayden are in either location, they're going to find them tonight.

But it's been hours. More than a few. And Brett's howled twice more and heard nothing back. Either Liam can't hear him or can't respond. Neither is good. 

"They'll be fine."

Theo's voice breaks the silence in the car. Brett doesn't feel like answering; he doesn't know how Theo's so flippantly sure of that. It's been hours. Almost a whole day. The Doctors could've done anything to them by now.

"Yeah," he says finally.

The gravel near the water plant crackles as they pull up. "We shouldn't split up," Theo says. "In case there's trouble."

Brett nods. He's willing to do whatever it takes to rescue them. To rescue Liam. 

He follows Theo to the entrance, unmanned, and then in. The tunnels wind as they begin their descent - he didn't even know places like this had basements, or that something as innocent as water rushing through pipes could sound so menacing. 

They've been circling for five minutes when he catches it.

It's slight, but it's there; the faint scent of Liam's blood. His heart almost stops, he's so surprised to get a lead. Nothing else has been going right, so-

"This way," he breathes. "Liam's this way."

It's hard to keep track of the scent amongst all the chemicals and the water dampening everything, making his sense of smell weaker, but he finally latches onto the scent strongly enough to be able to follow it. Theo trails behind him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He'd know Liam anywhere. "I know he's here."

He's going to find Liam. He's going to find him. Doesn't think about whether or not he'll be bringing home Liam or just his body. Does not think about it. 

The scent of blood fades, but Liam's natural scent becomes stronger and stronger with every passing second, and he knows they're close. He tunes his hearing in, looking for a heartbeat, breathing, something, anything, that will tell him if Liam's alive or not. 

He notices, though, as they get closer, that it can't be good, because the scent is all wrong. Still Liam, but sick and confused, afraid. He's hurt. Brett can't tell how badly, but there was enough blood for him to track.

He's so focussed on following his nose that he barely notices when he rounds the corner, and there's Liam - stretched out on the floor, on his side, his arm wrapped in a medieval looking brace, stretched out on the ground. His hand is pressed over the juncture of his elbow. He flinches when he hears them, head snapping up to look at them.

"Brett," he says. The relief in his voice is palpable. 

Brett ignores Theo's "be careful!" as he rushes to enter the room. Liam lifts his head off the floor, but it's a weak effort at best. He starts coughing, wheezily, like he's got a bad cold.

Now that he's closer, he can see that there's a wide, thick tube feeding into Liam's elbow, pumping a black liquid into him. Liam's shaking, and when he says, "Brett," again, there's a bite of pain in his voice.

Brett touches Liam's shoulder, then his neck. "Hey," he breathes. "Hi." His veins turn black the moment his skin makes contact with Liam's. 

Liam shuffles weakly where he's lying. "Did you bring help?" He breathes the words like they're costing him every ounce of energy he has left. 

"We are the help," Theo says. 

Liam's eyes meet Brett's briefly. His pulse, beneath Brett's palm on his neck, is weak, thready. He's injured. Brett's stomach lurches when he realises how bad it is - Liam's made no moves to get up even though there's nothing holding him down. 

"Are you hurt?" Brett asks. 

Liam nods. "My side," he croaks. "A cut or something. I couldn't see it though."

"Where's Hayden?" Theo asks. Brett inspects Liam; the wound must be on the side Liam's lying on, because the side facing him looks fine. 

Liam shakes his head, rests it back on the concrete. "They took her somewhere else," he croaks. "I don't know where. I tried taking her pain away. They didn't like that." 

"Roll onto your back," Brett murmurs. He honestly doesn't care about anything else right now but getting this tube out of Liam's arm, inspecting the injury. Liam obeys him, flinching when his back rests against the cement. He's soaked through to the bone in water and sweat. Brett catches sight of it now - a wound that's turned the grey cloth over Liam's side and stomach bright red.

"They did surgery on her," he says. "Said her condition worsens."

_Her condition isn't what I'm worried about_ , Brett thinks as he begins to peel Liam's bloody shirt away from his side. The effort gets him a startled grunt of pain, Liam's eyes flicking up to look at him. "Is it bad?" he croaks.

Brett swallows. The wound is open, bleeding freshly without Liam's shirt to stop it, the congealing blood disturbed by the movement. It looks like a stab wound, about an inch and a half across. It should have healed. He remembers the cane that one of the Doctors carries and feels his guts twist. Could they have done this? 

"It's not that bad," Brett lies. He hopes Liam doesn't pick up on it. 

Theo's kneeling down next to them, shedding his jacket and pulling his shirt off, revealing a white tank top beneath it. He passes the shirt to Brett as he puts his jacket back on. "We need to get out of here," he says. "They could come back." 

Brett does what he can with the shirt, tearing strips off the bottom and folding the rest into a pad. "I know," he says. "But we can't leave like this." 

Theo motions at the tube in Liam's arm. "That needs to go," he says. 

Brett lifts Liam's arm gently, causing him to jerk and gasp. "Let me look," he says. "Yeah? I'm gonna get this off you. Out of you. Whatever." 

"How long has that been on you?" Theo asks.

"Since we got here." Liam sounds drained. "I tried pulling it out. Couldn't do it. Hayden couldn't either."

"If I take it out, will it heal?" Brett asks. "Can you shift?"

Liam's already shaking his head. "I tried," he rasps. "When I heard you howl. I couldn't hold onto it, though. I think it's that stuff." 

Brett inspects the brace; it's fastened tightly to Liam's arm, and Brett can see that his skin is puffy and an angry red around the site of the tube. It's at least as thick as one of his fingers, and Brett thinks if he looks closely enough he can see the shape of it running up Liam's arm, under his skin. The area is bleeding a mixture of black liquid and Liam's blood.

Theo kneels down next to them. "What is that?"

Brett tracks it across the room, where it's feeding into a tank bubbling with bloody water and what looks like human viscera. "Something evil," he says.

"We need to get him out of here," Theo says.

"Have you found Hayden?" Brett wants to tell Liam to worry about himself; he's whiter than Brett's ever seen him. _Blood loss_ , Brett thinks. No werewolf heals from that.

"Scott and the others are looking for her," Brett says. "We came for you." He examines the device on Liam's arm again, the leather straps that are cinched tightly around his wrist, forearm, and bicep. The buckles holding them in place are rusted. "We need to get all this off you," he says.

"I tried," Liam croaks. "Won't budge." 

Theo stands up. "Brett, you get Liam out of here," he says. "Take him to my truck. I'm going to look for Hayden."

"No," Brett says.

Theo turns back; he's already heading away, evidently thinking Brett will agree with him. "Huh?"

"You said it yourself," Brett says, desperately searching for a reason to keep Theo here - he doesn't trust him, the way he already knew the way to the water plant even though everyone else had no idea where it was. "We shouldn't split up." He gestures at Liam, who's started shivering again. "Even if I get him out of this there's no way I can get him out and fight if I have to," he says. "Scott and the others are already looking for Hayden." 

There's a long pause. They have a stare off until Liam shifts where he's lying and coughs hoarsely, his chest shaking with it. The noise comes from somewhere deep within his chest, wet and wheezing and rasping. 

"You're right," Theo says. "I'll have a look around, see if I can find anything useful in here. Maybe something to get him out of that thing." 

Brett nods, watching as Theo moves off to look around. He turns back to Liam. "Hold still," he says. "Just um-" He can't deal with the way Liam's looking at him blearily, tiredly, clearly affected by a combination of blood loss, pain and whatever liquid is drugging him. "Just let me handle it," Brett says. "Okay?"

"Okay," Liam whispers.

He looks at the wound on Liam's side, leans in closer, trying to see how deep it is. "It's been healing," Liam says from above him. "Slowly, though." 

"Okay." If it's healing on its own it's not Brett's main priority; he puts the folded remains of Theo's shirt against the wound and says to Liam, "Hold that there, okay?" 

Liam uses his good arm to press the pad in place as Brett grabs one of the strips he made before. He begins trying to tie them over the makeshift pressure pad, but getting them under Liam when he can hardly move is proving difficult.

"Is it bleeding a lot?" Liam mumbles.

"No. Not anymore. It looks like it's healing." He ties the strips in place, satisfied enough that they won't move. 

"Can you sit up?" he asks quietly.

Liam nods. Brett helps him, hands under Liam's arms, until he's sitting up, legs out in front of him, slumped over and cradling his arm in his lap. Brett searches the brace, looking for a weak spot, and sees the rusted clasp holding the tube in place.

"Does it hurt?" Brett asks softly. If it doesn't, he's got no problem with just tearing at it, but if it's going to hurt Liam - if he can avoid doing that-

Liam nods. "Yeah," he croaks. 

Not good. Brett took his pain as soon as he got here, and it's already back, gnawing at whatever remaining nerves Liam's got left and likely can't afford to lose. 

"Give me your other hand," he says softly.

Liam reaches across, lets Brett take his good hand. Brett concentrates on leeching the pain out - knows that doing this is sort of like running a marathon. The more he paces himself, the more he's going to be able to do to help.

Liam leans his head against Brett's shoulder. He's chewing on his lower lip slowly, blinking tiredly. He probably hasn't slept - probably wouldn't have been able to with the pain anyway.

Brett lets go. "Better?" he murmurs.

Liam looks up at him. His eyes are tight around the edges from stress; his irises are almost concealed completely by how wide his pupils are blown in the darkness of the room.

"Thanks," he says softly.

"Okay." Brett leans back a bit, looks at the brace again. "You know anything about this?" he asks, gesturing helplessly.

"It's in really deep." Liam's voice is feeble. "I can feel it." 

"Okay." Brett's stomach is churning - he's not good with this stuff. Being a born werewolf means he's never dealt with needles or hospitals or anything medical; he's never been exposed to it. "Okay, I'm gonna take the tube out first," he says. "Put pressure on it when I do. I'll work out the brace after."

Liam nods. He's shivering, soaked through from where he's been lying in the puddle. He meets Brett's eyes briefly. His gaze is clear, but there's pain there, and fright. How long as he been alone down here?

Brett moves closer, working the clasp holding the tube in place. He grunts; it's refusing to give. No wonder Hayden and Liam couldn't budge it; it's rusted in place, the separate metal parts almost welded together by age.

Brett uses a bit of werewolf strength and finally gets it to move. The clasp breaks when he applies a little more power to it; he almost sighs with relief. The sooner he gets this brace off, the sooner they can get Liam out of here, to safety, get his wound treated properly, maybe disinfect it. 

Brett wonders if anywhere is safe anymore. 

He puts a hand on the tube. Even that makes Liam flinch as it moves the tube in the wound site; Brett knows this is gonna hurt.

"Okay," he says. "This is gonna suck but - you need to try and be quiet, okay? If they hear us and come back-"

"I know." Liam nods. "I'll be quiet."

Brett grips the tube, tightly, intending on wrenching it out as fast as he can. As soon as he starts, Liam makes some twisted noise of pain, something halfway between a cry and a gasp, and rocks where he's sitting. The next few noises are quieter, but just as distressed.

It seems to go on forever; the tube never seems to end, pulling out further and further, almost a whole foot of it until Brett sees a metal tip appear. 

Liam gasps when it's yanked out completely and starts gushing black liquid everywhere; his arm is bleeding, not profusely, but enough to warrant putting pressure on the wound. He clamps his hand down over it, shaking violently. 

The tube isn't tapered at all, and Brett hopes Liam was unconscious for its insertion. He's panting for breath now, dripping in sweat.

"I'm sorry," Brett murmurs, putting his hand on the back of Liam's neck. "Is it okay?" He's absorbing as much pain as he can while he says it, watching his own veins turn black.  
"It's okay," Liam says faintly. "It'll heal." 

Brett inspects the leather straps. "Hold your arm out," he says. "I'm gonna get this off."

Liam holds out his arm, giving Brett access to all the buckles and clasps. Brett begins working them, trying to do it quickly so they can just get the hell out of here, but the buckles and leather are fastened so tightly they're digging into Liam's skin and Brett can't get any leverage. 

He notices that Liam's beginning to sag, his arm shaking with the effort of holding it up. "Easy," Brett says, changing positions so Liam can put his arm across Brett's legs. "Here." He sits back in frustration, staring at it and trying to work out a weak point. The clasp broke, but the rest of it seems relatively new and tough. 

"It's looser around my wrist." Liam wriggles his fingers a little. "It's tightest near my elbow. Does that help?"

"Yeah." Brett gets to work on the elbow part of the brace; he knows he needs to return full blood flow to Liam's arm, and the upper section of the brace, fastened around his bicep, seems to be cutting off the circulation. Liam's veins are raised to the surface, a sickly blue in the flashing half-lights of the water plant. 

"Where did Theo go?"

Brett lifts his head and looks around, suddenly realising that they haven't heard anything from Theo in a few minutes. Liam's face is twisted in fear when Brett looks back at him.  
"Doesn't matter," Brett says. "Can't move until we get this off you anyway. If he's not back by then we're going." 

The brace finally gives at the elbow, giving him some leverage to work at the bicep. "What if he's in trouble?" Liam croaks.

"You're in more trouble." Brett growls in frustration at the brace. "Besides, out of you and Theo, I'm pretty sure everyone wants you alive." 

The Doctors are going to be back any minute now. It's a wonder they aren't yet. Brett sets his teeth, grows his claws in.

"Liam, I can't get it off," he says. Liam's head jerks up and he pins him with a look of fright. "Look I - I wanna use my claws," Brett says. "But I might cut you and if you can't heal-" _And you're already bleeding, you've already lost so much blood-_

"Just do it," Liam says. 

Brett shakes his head. "Balls of steel, Dunbar," he says shakily, beginning to saw at the leather with his claws. "This reminds me of that time at a lacrosse game - it was uh, what, Knox, we were playing?" He needs to keep Liam talking.

"Yeah." Liam's voice is quiet, scratchy. "Knox. Semi-finals."

"Yeah, yeah, that's it. Semi finals. Jacobs ran into you on the field and broke your nose. Coach was furious but you just got up and kept playing. You looked like a goddamn Christmas tree with all that blood on you." He can feel the leather finally beginning to give and stretch with the tearing. 

Liam hasn't answered him. Brett takes a break, lifts the hand Liam's got pressed over his elbow. There's blood seeping out of it, slowly, staining Brett's jeans. Next, he checks the wound on his side - the pad is slowly staining through. It hasn't stopped bleeding. 

Knowing Liam's looking as well, he puts his hand back and then continues with the brace, prompting, "Liam?"

"Yeah." Liam nods a bit. "I remember. Knox was a good team." 

"Everyone thought you were fucking insane," Brett says. "But they also thought you were the toughest player out there that night." 

There's a long silence, and Brett's about to try another topic when Liam says weakly, "We have a Jacobs at Beacon Hills. Greenberg. Coach hates him." 

The top section of the brace snaps, and Brett manages to only leave a few shallow scratches on Liam's arm. After that, he makes quick work of the wrist strap, finally freeing Liam from it and dumping it onto the ground. They must've been here nearly ten minutes trying to get it off.

Brett hears footsteps, turns around with his eyes glowing and his claws out, feeling desperately afraid - Liam can't fight like this, he can't even stop shivering - ready to protect Liam from the Doctors if he has to.

He catches sight of Theo's sneakers and jeans. "Brett," he whispers. 

"Right here." Brett turns back to Liam. Typical that Theo would disappear for the hard stuff and reappear just in time to make it look like he was part of the effort. 

Theo approaches them, standing over them, and Brett doesn't miss the way Liam hunches his shoulders, like he's trying to protect himself. "You got it off," Theo says. "What is it?"

"I don't know." The stuff gushing from the tube smells wrong, but Brett can't tell what it is exactly. "It doesn't matter now anyway. We need to go." He looks back to Liam, dismayed to see his eyes shut and his body listing sideways. "Can you walk?" he asks, doubtful he'll be able to. He's doubtful Liam is even going to be conscious much longer.

"I think so." Liam swallows. "Help me up?"

Brett stands and hefts Liam to his feet. It takes a moment for Liam to catch his balance - he leans back on Brett's torso when he wobbles coltishly, swallowing, before he really gets his feet underneath him, pressing his good hand against his side. Theo's already edging towards the stairs. 

"I've got you," Brett murmurs. "Come on. Doesn't matter if we're slow. Tell me if you need help." 

He follows closely behind Liam, putting a hand on his waist when he seems like he's faltering. "Keep going," he says. "We're almost there." He's listening to Liam's heartbeat; it's faster than usual, irregular, its beat thready and exhausted. He presses down over the bandages on Liam's side so Liam can use his good arm to cradle his injured one. His breathing is fast and shallow. 

_He's getting worse_ , Brett realises. _Not better._

"Stop," Brett murmurs, and Liam does, immediately, leaning against the wall. "Theo," Brett says. "We need to stop for a minute."

Theo turns to them, takes in Liam's face. "Liam," he says, his face alarmed. 

Brett turns Liam around, wondering what's got Theo so worked up. Liam's nose is dripping blood; he lifts his eyes to look at Brett exhaustedly. He reaches up to touch it, focuses blearily on his fingers when he pulls them away. 

"Head down," Brett says shakily, coaxing Liam into it. "Breathe through your mouth." It feels a bit asinine to be treating a bloody nose, which is the least of Liam's concerns right now, but it's the only thing he knows how to do. 

Theo's phone rings. Brett welcomes the reprieve in walking for Liam's sake, encourages him to sit down. Liam sinks to his knees, keeping his head bowed and sitting back on his feet and calves. Brett rubs the back of his neck.

He rifles in his pockets, finds the small hand towel he'd been using to clean up Corey's neck. He must have absently shoved it in there in his hurry to get here, and he digs it out now, folding it into a pad and tilting Liam's head a bit.

"Here," he murmurs. He presses it against Liam's nose, hoping the blood flow stems soon. Liam's eyes are open, looking at him. Brett tries to convey that it'll be alright without saying the words. At least Liam's not hurting right now. There is that.

"They found Hayden," Theo says. "Liam's right - the Doctors did surgery on her and it's not healing like it should. They're taking her to the hospital and then they're heading back to Scott's, said we should meet them there." 

Brett nods. Theo looks at Liam. "How's he doing?"

"Not good," Brett says. 

"We can't stay here any longer," Theo says. "They're going to come back."

Brett grits his teeth, pulls the towel away from Liam's face, and puts it in his pocket. "Okay," he says, and begins to help Liam to his feet. Liam staggers on the way up, like he doesn't even know where his feet are in relation to the rest of him, gripping Brett's forearms. "Then let's go."

Theo eyes Liam dubiously. "Can he walk?" he questions hesitantly. 

Brett looks back to Liam, whose nose is still bleeding, swaying on his feet and leaning heavily on Brett's arms. No. Liam can't walk. That much is obvious.

"I'll carry him," Brett says, moving slowly so Liam knows what he's doing. Liam looks up at him, his face clearly exhausted, and shakes his head slightly, but doesn't say anything. 

"It's a long way to the car," Theo says dubiously. "Are you sure you can-"

"He's getting worse," Brett snaps. "You wanna stand around here arguing about whether or not I can carry him or do you wanna leave?"

Theo holds up his hands. "Okay. You can carry him. Let's go." 

Brett turns to Liam. "Okay," he says. "Come on. Put your arm around my shoulders."

Liam slings his good arm around Brett's shoulders, giving a slight whimper when Brett picks him up none too gently. He puts his head against Brett's shoulder as they start following Theo. Brett's already sweating; Liam's small, but he's also broad and muscular for his age, which makes Brett's job a little bit harder. 

"Did you grow?" he pants, trying to distract Liam from the situation.

Liam lifts his eyes tiredly. "Huh?"

"You grew," Brett accuses. "Since last summer. You weren't this heavy when I took you out on the lacrosse field."

"Maybe." Liam licks his lips slowly. "Maybe. I don't know." 

Brett hefts him up a bit higher. "Getting a workout in today," he jokes feebly.

"I'm sorry," Liam whines.

"Don't be," Brett huffs. Being this close, he can feel the cramps that are starting to grip Liam's muscles, the way he's wracked with minute tremors. "You're gonna be fine," he says. "We got you out." Liam's getting worse. This better be one of those it-gets-worse-before-it-gets-better things, because if it's not, Brett's going to lose his fucking mind. 

"God, you're freezing," Brett comments. He's only just noticed now, hopes that Liam is sick enough to not remember any of this once he's better. "We'll be home soon. If you buy us Chinese food I promise to watch Guardians of the Galaxy with you, you dork." Liam's been trying to get him to watch it for ages, calling it a "classic" (Brett doesn't think Liam knows what that word means, exactly) and saying that he's missing out. Brett thinks Liam is maybe the biggest closet nerd he's ever met, wants to introduce him to good movies, but Liam won't budge. He's stubborn like that.

"You're gonna love it." Liam's voice is tense with pain, but he's playing along. "You're basically Drax." 

"What's a Drax?" Liam winces, and Brett notices that he's got his body tilted inward, towards Brett, his arm cradled gingerly against his chest. He picks up the pace.

"You'd know if you'd watch the movie." 

"Well, can't you just tell me?"

"No." Liam sounds dazed, faint; when Brett looks down, he notices that Liam's nose is bleeding again - gushing, actually, dripping over his lips and down his chin, onto his shirt. 

"Head forward, Liam," he says nervously. "By the way, jokes aren't actually funny if you don't get them. Also not funny if they have to be explained. You aren't funny, Dunbar."

"I might not be funny but at least I'm up to date with all the movies that are out." Liam's voice is a pitiful whine, and talking is getting blood all over his teeth. "I'm bleeding on you."

"You're bleeding on yourself more. Besides, it doesn't matter," Brett says - at least not for the reasons Liam thinks. "We're almost there anyway. And what's the point of being up to date in movies if they aren't any good?"

"Guardians is good," Liam reasons weakly. "It has a talking tree and an angry raccoon. And Chris Pratt."

"Is that the guy from Parks and Recreation?"

"Yeah." He feels Liam's fingers digging into his shoulder, trying to hold on. 

"Well, that's really sold me," Brett says. Liam starts coughing again, and it sounds wet and congested, like he's struggling for air past the blood streaming out of his nose. "Fuck," Brett swears, giving up all pretenses and abandoning his "let's pretend it's not happening" mission. He uses his arm, around Liam's back, to tilt him forward, get him further upright. "Just breathe, Liam, okay? We're almost at the truck."

Liam's shaking again. He smells frightened, sick. Brett can't believe Liam's luck - sick enough to not be able to help himself but conscious enough to be alert and afraid of what's happening to him. Is Liam dying? He doesn't know. He's talking more now, but he's also bleeding profusely from his nose and barely keeping another coughing fit at bay.

Brett's never been more relieved to see Theo in his life; he's waiting outside the truck, has the back passenger door already propped open. "I thought I was gonna have to come back for you," he says worriedly. "Shit, Brett, is he-"

"He'll be fine," Brett says, because Liam really doesn't need to know how fucking awful he looks with his lips, chin and nose smeared with blood, face white, shirt soaked through with water and sweat. Telling him he looks like a vampire that's recently fed is not going to make him feel better.

Brett begins lowering Liam with the goal of getting him to slide into the truck. Liam's feet scrabble on the inner rim of the car. "We just need to get him back." He finally succeeds in getting Liam in and hops into the back with him. "Let's go." 

Theo hops in the front. Liam seems pretty determined to sit on his own but Brett can smell the pain coming off him in waves, the scent of blood from his nose and his side. It's still dripping off his chin, onto his shirt and jeans. They're probably goners by now anyway.

"Let me see your arm," Brett says. Liam holds it out obediently - it's healing, but much more slowly than usual. When the car starts and Theo begins driving, Liam lurches forward unsteadily, unable to keep his balance.

"Okay." Brett moves closer to him, gets the towel back out of his pocket, and puts it against Liam's face. He kind of wishes it was a cold cloth - his mother told him when he was a kid that cold causes the veins to constrict to trap warmth, and that would stop the blood from gushing as heavily.

Liam tilts his head forward without being told, leaning on Brett, looking up at him wordlessly. Brett gives him a strained smile, puts his free arm around Liam's shoulders and hooks a hand under his armpit to draw him in closer. He leans around, trying to look at Liam's side, but it's too dark to really see anything.

"So," he says. "This Drax character. Is he as good looking as me?"

A small smile crinkles the corners of Liam's eyes. "Better," he says, voice muffled by the towel. 

"Ouch, Liam." He pulls the towel away a bit. "Has it stopped bleeding?"

"I think so." Liam sounds sort of out of it. Not like he doesn't know where he is or what's going on, but not really fully present either.

The car lurches over a speed bump; Liam goes flying forward, stopped from hitting the seat by Brett's arm across his chest. "Okay," he says. "Come here." 

Brett leans his back against the car door, lifts his legs up onto the seat, and pulls Liam to lean against him. Liam goes willingly, his arm curled around his stomach, head back against Brett's shoulder. 

They're quiet for a few minutes, until Brett notices that Liam's breathing is getting harsher, more desperate-sounding. 

"You okay?" Brett asks.

Liam's teeth are clenched, breathing harsh through his nose. He gives a single nod. He shifts, probably trying to find a more comfortable position, cradling his arm against his chest. An abrupt coughing fit overtakes him, and Brett hastens to get him sitting back up, rubbing his back and keeping him bracketed in place with his legs on either side of Liam's hips.

He puts his free hand on the back of Liam's neck, absorbs the pain until his vision starts spotting. Liam's listing to the side, exhausted, breathing harsh and congested.

"Brett."

He looks up; Theo's reaching back, a bottle of water in his hand. Brett takes it, nods at Theo, and begins unscrewing the cap. "Liam," he murmurs. "Water." He doesn't know how much blood Liam's lost, but judging by how deathly pale he is, it's a lot. How long have the Doctors had him down there, with no food or water, slowly bleeding out? Brett can't imagine that they remember to feed their captives - or that their captives live long enough to warrant being fed. He has to get Liam rehydrated at any rate.

Liam's hands are occupied, one pressed over the wound site at his elbow and the other attached to it, so Brett holds the bottle steady for him as he drinks, reluctantly at first, then thirstily, probably realising how dehydrated he is. Brett concentrates on Liam's left wrist - the piece of string wrapped around it that seems to go everywhere with him. He wonders if it's significant.

Liam polishes off at least half the bottle before stopping, leaning back, and going back to catching his breath. He sounds like he's run a race with pneumonia. 

"Better?" Brett asks. 

"I saw that man," Liam mumbles.

Brett notices Theo's eyes flick back to them. "What man?" he asks softly, hoping desperately that Liam will catch on to his tone and not say anything more.

Liam leans back onto his chest, slowly, his head lolling back on Brett's shoulder so he can look at him properly. He opens his mouth, seems to read the look on his face, and says, "what?" in a tone so convincingly confused even Brett believes it.

"How's your arm?" Brett asks.

Liam shifts against him, still favouring his right arm. The sleeve is rolled up past his elbow, and the hole has only just finished closing over. "It's okay." There's no conviction behind the words. "It's healing."

He winds both arms around and over Liam's shoulders, reaching for the arm. The action forces Liam deeper into his chest, and he feels it when Liam finally sags and relaxes, exhausted, against him. He takes Liam's arm in both hands, gently, examining it. There are no marks; the wound has healed.

When he touches it, though, his fingers zap with Liam's pain and the area is frigidly cold. He presses a hand down on it. "Does that help?"

Liam nods, but he's put his head back against Brett's shoulder, his eyes closed. He's sweating profusely, beginning to soak through the flimsy, already-damp shirt he's wearing. Brett can feel the minute tremors racing through him. His nose isn't bleeding anymore, and the blood is beginning to dry over his upper lip. Brett tries smudging it off with the towel. It sort of works.

"It's in my mouth," Liam says groggily.

"What is?" He thinks at first that Liam's just rambling incoherently - he's getting less and less lucid as time goes on - then notices Liam running his tongue over his teeth. "Oh. You've got blood in your mouth?"

Liam nods.

Brett finds the towel again. "Here," he says, helping Liam sit up straight enough to tilt his head forward. "Spit." 

Liam spits out a glob of blood, making Brett's stomach churn. He reaches for the water, unscrews the cap, says, "You should have some more water." 

Liam takes a small sip, running his tongue over his teeth again, and swallows. His mouth, at least, looks less like he's feasted on raw steak for dinner and more like he's just been in a fight at school. 

Brett looks up from Liam's face in time to see Theo watching them in the rear-view mirror, his gaze set and still on Liam. Something icy and unpleasant settles in Brett's stomach. He doesn't trust Theo. 

_If Scott couldn't find the water plant without a GPS_ , he thinks, _how could Theo? How did he know where they were? Where the water plant was?_

He looks down again, finds Liam's breathing beginning to taper off into something sleepy and vulnerable. He feels pretty bad about it, but he jostles him a bit and says softly, "Liam, come on. Stay awake." He doesn't want him sleeping, not like this, not here. 

Liam shivers, but opens his eyes. Brett doesn't even have a dry shirt to give Liam, not a sweatshirt or a blanket. He's got to be freezing, exhausted. He yearns to open his mouth and let whatever he's thinking spill out, just to comfort Liam, but his desire to save face in front of Theo is almost as strong. He doesn't want to give him anything to work with, anything to manipulate them with, but he supposes, seeing them like this, Theo's probably got plenty of ammo. 

In the end, feeling Liam slip away again, he lets his urge to comfort win out. "I'd give you something to warm you up if I could," he murmurs to Liam, wishing there wasn't anyone else in the car to overhear them. "I don't have anything. I'm sorry."

Liam smiles at him. It's weak and tired, but it's there. "I'm okay." 

He's not; there's something wrong about his scent, but Brett decides not to bring that up. Instead, he puts his arm back around Liam's shoulders and hauls him in a little closer, squeezing his knees around Liam's sides, hoping it provides some warmth. _We got to them in time_ , he reasons with himself. _They were only there for a day. How much could the Doctors have done to them in a day?_

But another part of him is saying that Liam was barely strong enough to stand when they got to him, and that's not normal. His healing should've kicked in and fixed him up. Hunger and exhaustion shouldn't have kept him down and out the way he was, so what happened? Apart from the gaping hole in his side, which also should have healed by now, what happened to make him so lethargic and sick?

Liam gives a little jolt that soon turns into another coughing fit, his muscles enslaved by it for at least thirty seconds before he manages to gasp in enough air to stop it. Brett picks up the water bottle.

"Have some more water," he murmurs. "It might help."

Liam drinks again, but only a few sips before he doesn't want anymore. Brett caps it, puts it down, tucks his head into Liam's hair and desperately scents him. It's hard to pick up Liam's natural scent amongst the chemical haze of the water plant, the grime and sweat and blood, but it's there.

"Brett?"

Liam's voice is soft, more like a rasp. He's watching Brett's face closely, his eyebrows drawn together. The shivering seems to be getting worse even as the sweating tapers off.  
"What's up?"

Liam shifts against him, his eyes shut and brows drawn together, an expression of pain. It's coming back to him faster than Brett can recover and drain it. "When're we watching Guardians?" Liam asks, voice wavering.

"Whenever you want," Brett responds automatically. "I'll order pizza. Hell, we can watch Guardians and the Avengers and all those other lame superhero movies you wanna watch if you want. Stay up all night."

"Guardians of the Galaxy isn't superheroes," Liam mutters.

"Guardians of the Galaxy? Are you joking? It's in the title!" When Liam doesn't answer, Brett hurries to find a sliver of skin to touch, just to try and ease the pain again. He feels it when Liam's muscles unwind against him, hopes they're back soon. Maybe if Liam isn't healing the way he should, he could take something for the pain and it would work. 

"What's up with you?" Liam asks. The water seems to helping to clear his head.

Brett must be putting out chemo signals or something for Liam to ask that. "Nothing." He pulls Liam in closer. "Just glad you're okay."

Liam stares at him, and Brett knows he doesn't believe him for a second, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he just says, "Oh," and leans back a bit more. He's raised his legs so that they're pressed into Brett's, and Brett is glad that as least his jeans seem dry. Liam's smaller than him, so it's easy to envelop Liam's body in his own, to try and keep him warm.  
Theo is still watching them in the mirror. He hasn't said anything. Brett wants to scowl at him, or to snarl, flash his eyes, but something holds him back.

Theo might have yellow eyes, but Brett isn't fooled. He's not like them. Liam and Hayden will both be safer if Brett can hold his tongue to get to the bottom of it.

Liam startles as Brett's phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He shifts a little so he can reach it, sees that the caller ID says "Mason".

"Hey," he says when he answers.

Mason lets out a breath. "Brett? Is Liam okay?"

Finally Brett gets to give some good news. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, he's okay. He's right here." 

Liam lifts his head a little upon hearing his name. The sound Mason makes has Brett clenching his teeth against an onslaught of emotions. "Can he talk?" Mason asks.

"Mason wants to talk to you," Brett says to Liam.

Liam nods, takes the phone with his good arm, wincing as he's forced to let the injured one go. "Hey, Mase."

Brett doesn't listen in on their conversation much, which only lasts long enough for Mason to tell Liam that Hayden is alright, awake and asking about him, and that he's glad he's alright. When it's over, Liam hands his phone back and tucks his face into the base of Brett's throat. He swallows, and the movement seems to possess his throat, gripping the muscles slowly and torturously. 

"Liam?"

When Liam opens his eyes, Brett notices they're wet. Before he can say anything - ask anything - a few tears slip out, trailing down the sides of Liam's face.

For all the times he's cried, this is by far the worst. There's nothing Brett can do to ease the fear even as he continues to try and reduce Liam's pain, nothing he can say that will wipe the memories from Liam's mind. "What's wrong?" Brett asks. "Where's it hurt?"

"Everywhere." Liam's voice is a low moan of agony. "Brett, please-"

Brett doesn't even want to let him finish the sentence, takes Liam's hand and begins drawing the pain out. He's shaken that Liam even asked, because he never has before, no matter how badly something's hurting him. He's seen Liam in pain before, but not like this. Never like this.

"Sorry," Liam mumbles. His voice is so thoroughly exhausted, strained, that Brett can't resist pulling him in closer.

"Don't be." He's worried about Liam falling asleep but it would probably be kinder to let him at this point. "Go to sleep, okay?"

"You said-"

"Forget what I said. Go to sleep." 

~*~

Liam has trouble settling into sleep, no matter how tired he is - he's jolted by every bump in the road and every wayward noise in the car, thoroughly spooked by pretty much everything around him.

"I can't imagine a scenario in which a talking tree is funny," Brett says. "School plays ruined those for me. I played a tree once."

"I bet you were great." Liam's voice is a sleepy murmur. 

Brett shakes his head, keeping track of Liam's heartbeat. It's slowing down as he edges closer to rest. "I was terrible," he says. "I dropped all my branches. I think I ran into the lead at some point too."

"What's wrong with that?" Liam's voice is so quiet Brett's straining his hearing to be able to pick it up. 

"Trees don't move, Liam," he says pointedly. "What, no teasing about being in the school play? Mom wanted to expose me to as many intellectual circles as she could. Her words, not mine." It's one of the few things he remembers about his mother. She didn't want him and Lori to feel pigeon-holed into any one spot in life, so she got them to try everything.

Liam doesn't answer for a long moment. Then, almost inaudibly, "she sounds like a great mom."

Brett's heart twists at that. Because she was. The part that hurts the most is the past-tense of that sentence; she _was_ a good mom. But she's not now; he had twelve years of her, and then nothing. He got more than Lori, but not what he should have. It still makes him mad. His mother never bit anyone; she was a born werewolf, inherited her alpha power from her own mother when she died. None of them had hurt people before. 

The hunters didn't care about that when they came though. Brett's last memories of his mother are of her carrying his sister out of the house, then going back for their father, who was holding the hunters off. He never saw either of them again after that.

Liam's fingers tangle with his, weakly, jolting him out of his memories. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "About your family."

Brett swallows. "It's fine. It was a long time ago." 

It's not fine at all. It may as well have been yesterday. 

By the time they're back at Scott's house, Liam's finally succumbed to sleep and is fully relaxed against Brett's torso. His breath puffs warm against the side of Brett's neck. He hasn't stopped listening to Liam's heartbeat, on the lookout for anything abnormal.

He seems better for now. He's barely stirred from his reclined position against Brett's chest, hand over his injured arm, nose tucked up against Brett's pulse point. At least, sleeping, he's stopped coughing, and his breathing is even.

The drive has been mostly silent. Theo and Brett have pretty much nothing in common, so the conversation has been limited to Theo saying, "How's he doing?" and Brett responding with, "better," because really, what else can he say?

Theo stops the car and says, "I'll get the door," as he exits. Brett turns to Liam, regretfully shaking him awake.

"We're at Scott's," he says softly when Liam blinks his eyes open. "Just come inside and you can go straight back to sleep." 

Liam nods. He sits up enough for Brett to move out from under him, immediately starts shivering. When Brett is standing outside the backdoor of the truck, Liam begins sliding himself out. It seems like a monumental effort, but Liam stays upright, albeit shakily, and shakes his head like he's trying to clear it. Brett watches him swallow.

"Liam?" he asks, measured. Something's not right.

Liam makes no effort to move from where he's standing, even though they're here now, safe, back with his pack. He shuts his eyes.

"Crap," Brett says, lunging forward to catch Liam as he lurches forward and vomits. He looks down at the puddle while Liam gags breathlessly, squints.

He holds onto Liam with one arm while fishing in his pocket for his phone. Liam moans when he retches again. Nothing comes up this time around.

Brett shines his flashlight on the puddle, feels a twisting, dread-filled sensation in his stomach. It's black, no hint of food or water. It's the same stuff Liam was vomiting at Sinema weeks ago. 

_The Doctors had something to do with poisoning Liam. That's why I couldn't catch their scent... Why Liam couldn't remember properly. And he said he saw that man there too..._

"Okay," Liam mumbles.

"Do you need help?" Brett jerks back to the present; Liam's straightening up slowly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I think I'm okay. I feel a bit better now." 

"You sure?" he asks, because he has to double check, especially after all of that. He's not going to tell anyone Liam's getting sick with the same stuff he was at Sinema; that can be his information for now. 

"Can you walk?" Brett asks. "Your side..."

Liam's still favouring his arm, but he nods. "Yeah. I can walk."

Theo's holding the door open for them, and Brett puts a hand on Liam's back, between his shoulders, as they enter. Lydia is the only one there, standing in the centre of the living room when they come in.

"Liam!" 

She's over there and hugging Liam almost as soon as they step inside, and Liam leans on her a little, smiling wanly. "Hi, Lydia."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Her eyes take in the spots of blood on his shirt. "You're bleeding."

Brett shakes his head at her just as Liam says, "I'm okay, I'm tired," in a small, wavering voice. 

"Come on," Brett says. "Lydia, does Scott have a first aid kit?"

"It's upstairs. I'll go get it." She's out of the room before Brett can answer. He turns Liam towards the kitchen, hustles him towards the table.

"Can you get up?" he asks.

Liam shakes his head. "My arm," he murmurs. "I can't put any weight on it."

Brett nods. "No big deal." He lifts Liam up onto the table so he's sitting on the edge. "This is what I go to the gym for," he says. 

"Specifically this reason? To lift me onto tables?" It's a weak joke at best, but Liam's trying, and more importantly, he's letting Brett help him instead of pushing him away - which is a very Liam thing to do, so Brett's surprised he hasn't argued.

"Yep. Maybe when you're better we'll do a more fun version of it." Brett moves around to Liam's injured side. "You wanna lie down?" he asks. 

"On Scott's dining room table?" Liam asks.

"Yeah. Easier to clean blood off a table than off a couch, Li." He supports Liam's neck as he lies back against the wood, his lower legs hanging off the edge. Brett picks up his jacket, which is lying over the back of a chair, and folds it, putting it beneath Liam's head. "Okay, let me see your side."

Liam pulls his shirt up, wincing at the movement.

Brett sucks in a breath. Theo's ripped-up shirt is completely soaked through. There's blood running down Liam's side, and the skin around the bandages feels hot to the touch. Liam flinches when Brett ventures too close.

Lydia walks into the room, carrying a large box, a rag and a plastic bucket. Her face pales when she sees Liam's side. Brett shakes his head at her; Liam doesn't need to know how bad it is. 

"Where's Theo?" he asks instead.

Lydia's still frozen, but she moves when he speaks. "He went upstairs," she says. "To make a few phone calls to Scott and the others." She puts the first aid box down on a chair, the bucket beside Liam's head on the ground. She's staring at the blood seeping out of Liam's wound as she takes out a pair of scissors and hands them to Brett.

Liam eyes them nervously. "What're you gonna do with those?" he asks.

"Cut the bandages off. What'd you think I was gonna do?" Brett cuts through the bandages, dumping them all in a plastic bag Lydia has waiting. Liam winces as the fabric is pulled away from his skin, but he doesn't make any noise, and he doesn't pull away. Brett can only hope that Liam's healing starts soon - infection is already setting in, turning the wound an angry red. It looks a little bit better on the inside, though.

Brett stares as Lydia pulls out a needle and some thick black thread. "Lydia?"

Liam follows Brett's eyes and sees the needle. "You're stitching me up?" he asks faintly.

Lydia's already threaded the needle. "Yes," she says. "You're bleeding. We need to stop it."

"Do you even know how?" Brett demands.

Something breaks in her expression even as she ties off the thread. "Yes," she softly. "Allison did this once for Scott when he wasn't healing. She taught me." 

Allison. The name is vaguely familiar; Brett's about to ask when Liam shakes his head minutely, eyes begging Brett not to bring it up. That's when Brett remembers - she was Allison Argent. Her father was the hunter who protected the remainder of his pack from the assassins. 

"We can't stitch him up yet," Brett says. "It's infected. We need to clean it first."

A slight frown creases Lydia's face, and Brett prays she's smart enough to work out that Liam's not healing so he doesn't have to say it aloud. 

"Okay," she says, seeming to catch on. "You clean it up. I'll try to find some disinfectant."

Brett picks up the rag Lydia brought down with her and wets it in the sink; Liam turns his head, cranes it backwards, to track his movement. When Brett comes back, he tries tilting his head down to see the injury.

"How bad is it?" he asks. 

Brett chews his lip. "It's not that bad," he lies.

"Brett." 

He looks up. Liam's watching him, his gaze oddly steady for someone who's this injured and sick. "Okay," Brett sighs. "It's not looking that great. It's started bleeding again and it's infected. I'm going to clean it out and then Lydia can stitch you up. Hopefully that helps it heal."

"It's bleeding again?"

"I think me swinging you around like a sack of potatoes probably didn't do it much good."

"Shouldn't it be healing?" Liam sounds worried.

"Yeah," Brett says softly. "It should. But the hole in your arm closed over; you just aren't healing as fast as you usually do." He's mopping gingerly at the blood around the wound site, and Liam's shaking like he's on the cusp of a seizure. "Are you cold?" 

"Yeah," Liam admits. 

Brett looks around, but there's nothing down here that he can see to cover Liam with, and he's not done with his side anyway. 

He hears Lydia coming down the stairs, turns to find her with a bottle of disinfectant in her hand. "We're lucky Scott's mom is a nurse," she comments. "The whole house is filled with medical supplies." She hands the bottle to Brett. 

"I suppose that's good." He looks at Liam regretfully. "This is gonna sting."

"I know," Liam replies resignedly. "Let's just get it over with."

Brett supposes this won't be the worst pain Liam's been in all night, but he tries to be quick and thorough as he cleans the wound out, trying to ignore the way Liam's face is twisted up. He doesn't make any noise, lies still with Lydia's hand stroking his hair. 

When he's done, he looks at Lydia, but she says, "Why don't we take a break?" and nods pointedly at Liam, who's breathing shakily. 

"Yeah," Brett says, getting a glass of water. "Liam? You want some water?"

Liam levers himself a little on his good arm, taking the glass and sending Brett a grateful look as he drinks deeply. Brett's glad to see him thirsty, at least. He doubts Liam will eat anything tonight, but at least he's not refusing water.

When Brett takes the glass and Liam lies back down, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably, Lydia picks up the needle. "Okay," she says, trying to sound confident and upbeat. "Last step." She reeks of fear. She doesn't want to hurt Liam. 

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Brett asks hesitantly.

Lydia nods. "I know what I'm doing." Her heart stays steady; she's not lying. 

He doesn't say anything else. Instead, he moves around to hold Liam's shoulders; this is going to hurt, and he wants to be able to take any pain possible.

Lydia looks at Liam, her gaze tender. "It's going to hurt," she says gently. "But I'll try to be quick."

Liam nods. 

Lydia seems to steel herself for a moment, then begins stitching. She is fast, Brett will give her that; they're not going to be here long as long as Liam can hold still. He is so far, even though he's shaking, eyes scrunched shut and jaw clenched.

Brett drains some of his pain away, watching sweat roll down Liam's face and neck, gather in the hollow at the base of his throat, slide into his hair. 

By the time Lydia's done, Brett can tell Liam's feeling nauseous again; he's swallowing, mouth shut tightly. There's blood on the table and Lydia's shaking as she ties off the stitches, dumps the needle on the table. The stitches are weeping slowly, and Brett resolves to clean the area again before Liam rests. 

Lydia takes the first aid kit away, leaving them alone. Almost as soon as she's gone, Liam starts to gag, rolls weakly onto his side, and vomits. Brett moves the bucket under his face just in time. So that's what it's for, he thinks, brushing Liam's hair shakily. 

"God," Liam moans. He's resting his head against his good arm; he's drenched in sweat. The shirt he's wearing is going to have to be thrown out. "I'm sorry, Brett," he groans. "I'm sorry."

Brett blinks. "What for?" he asks. 

"Getting caught." Liam's eyes are bleached almost white with exhaustion, the blue clouded by pain and sickness. "Should've been smarter," he mumbles.

Brett feels a wrench of guilt. "I'm the one who left you," he says guiltily. "I shouldn't have. I should have stayed with you and Hayden."

Liam lifts his head a little. "It wasn't your fault," he says hoarsely. He seems about to go on, but his breathing changes and he's leaning back over the bucket, body twisted on the table to accommodate him leaning over. 

It's more black stuff. Liam hasn't eaten anything in more than a day, so Brett's not surprised there's no real substance in there.

"Wasn't your fault," Liam croaks. "You were trying to help Hayden. You went to look for her pills." 

"I should have stayed," Brett says. "Scott might've come back with them." He knows now that Scott, Malia and Lydia were wrapped up in their own delusions, that that's why they didn't return, but he can't help but think that if he'd just stayed, he and Liam might have been able to hold the Doctors off until the others returned, hopefully with Hayden's pills.  


Liam shakes his head. "The Doctors knew we were there somehow," he rasps tiredly. "They planned it. They knew Hayden would end up alone. Or it didn't matter that I was there." 

Brett's about to reply when Lydia reappears, carrying a ragged old blanket and a few towels. "Is he okay?" she asks Brett softly.

Brett nods. "He'll be fine." 

Liam doesn't seem in the mood to talk to anyone else; his eyes are closed, and he's managed to turn on his side, towards Brett. "Thanks, Lydia," he mumbles when she throws the blanket over him and tucks a towel beneath his head. 

"He can't sleep here," Brett murmurs to her as she strokes Liam's hair gently.

"I know." She's nodding. "It's just until he can be moved to the couch. We should keep him warm, at least until then."

Brett nods.

Lydia pulls up a chair. "Is he asleep?" she asks softly.

Brett looks at Liam. His eyes are closed, but his breathing is controlled, somewhat shallow, his scent putting out only signals of discomfort, nausea and pain. "No," he says. "Just resting I think." He lifts the corner of the blanket a bit, inspects the neat row of stitches on Liam's side. "You're good," he admits.

Lydia doesn't move. "I had a good teacher," she says quietly.

Had. Brett knows all about the pain involved with past tense; he's been there every day of his life since the fire, alternating between referring to his parents in the present-tense and having to remind himself that those words are no longer applicable, then feeling angry at himself when the past-tense is the first thing to come to mind.

"Her dad saved my pack," Brett says.

Lydia looks at him.

"The deadpool," Brett says. He's stroking Liam's face gently, hoping Liam manages to drift off until the nausea subsides and he can be moved without puking. "The assassins," Brett tries again. "They killed thirty members of my pack in one go like it was nothing." 

"I heard about that." Lydia touches his arm. "I'm sorry."

Brett shakes his head. "It was Argent who helped protect us from the assassins when they came for us," he says. "He installed the new security at our complex. Satomi asked him why when less than a year before he'd wanted to put Scott down just for being a werewolf. Because that was their code - the Argent code was to hunt those who hunt them."

Lydia sits up straighter. "What did he say?"

"He said their code had changed. That it was "we protect those who cannot protect themselves", now. That things were different." 

"Allison changed the code." Lydia swallows. "She didn't want innocent people to die, whether they were human, werewolves, or anything in between." 

Liam's eyes have rolled halfway open, sleepily. He's trying to pay attention to the conversation, but he's sluggish and groggy. Lydia stands up.

"I'm going to help Theo," she says softly. "He's trying to find some more lore on the Doctors. I don't think anything will turn up, but we might as well try."

Before she leaves, she leans down and kisses the top of Liam's hair. Brett watches her go. He heard about Lydia well before he met her - heard of her as an indomitable ice-queen queen bee who was dumb and pretty and not afraid to show either. But she's more than that. She's smart. And there's not a single part of her that's cold, either. 

"Bucket," Liam mumbles, breaking into Brett's thoughts. Brett lifts the bucket up to his face, but this round of retching is much less violent, and Liam barely brings anything up. He seems a little more alert now. 

Brett stands up, his knees cracking, and empties the bucket down the sink, making sure to rinse both out before returning to Liam's side. "How're you feeling?" he asks with a sigh.

"Tired." 

"You and me both." He strokes Liam's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "Sick still? In pain?" He feels like he's ticking off items on a shopping list.

Liam shifts. He opens his eyes halfway, his gaze settling on Brett. "I'm alright," he murmurs. "Still sort of sick. But I'm okay."

Brett stands up, pulls the blanket back to look at Liam's side. He's still wearing the filthy grey shirt, and it's hiked up his side so it doesn't sit over the fresh stitches. The area looks raw and red, painful - infected. The stitches run for almost two inches.

"How's it look?" Liam asks.

"Better now that it's stitched up," Brett says, pulling the blanket back up around Liam's shoulders. "I wanna try cleaning it up a bit, though."

"Okay."

Brett takes one of the towels Lydia brought and wets it in the sink. He sits down, a hand on Liam's shoulder to encourage him to tilt further towards him, and begins dabbing at the wound. Liam winces but doesn't say anything, simply puts up with Brett's ministrations. 

"I feel gross," Liam says after a while.

Brett looks at him. "Yeah?" Liam does look closer to death than he does to life, covered in a thick layer of grime and sweat and dirt. "Before you sleep I'll find you some different clothes, maybe clean you up a bit. This shirt's a goner." 

He sits back down, leans his arms on the table and catches Liam's hand in his. 

"Sleepy?" he asks, looking at Liam's eyes, which are fluttering tiredly.

"Little." 

Brett nods. Liam dozes for a few minutes, breathing evening out, before shifting a little and opening his eyes again. Brett leans down and gets the bucket on a hunch, but while Liam leans over it, breathing heavily, nothing happens.

Eventually, he settles back, and Brett says, "you okay?"

Liam shifts. "Tables kind of suck to sleep on," he says, voice hoarse. 

Brett chuckles, stands up. "If you're feeling better I'll move you to the couch," he says. 

Liam nods, and Brett helps him sit up, slides Liam off the table and makes the short trip to the couch. It feels like about a thousand miles to walk; his muscles are screaming and tired, he's starving and dehydrated, and he's sitting pretty precariously on the edge of one hell of a breakdown. 

"Are you okay?" Liam asks as Brett puts him down on the couch.

"I will be once you are," Brett says honestly, watching as Liam sinks into the couch cushions. "Stay here," Brett murmurs, goes to the kitchen. He gets a glass of water, and, after a moment's deliberation, begins to rifle through the cabinets to see if he can find Tylenol. Liam's pain is a low hum, infringing on his senses - not chronic or bad, but there.

He can't find Tylenol here; it must be upstairs with the first aid kit. He passes back through the living room, giving Liam a once-over as he does, and heads upstairs. 

Lydia and Theo are in Scott's room. Lydia looks up when he comes in.

"How's Liam?" Theo asks.

Brett nods. "I just moved him to the couch," he says. "Came to find some Tylenol. He's not healing so it might take the edge off for him."

"I'll get it for you," Lydia says, leaving the room.

Brett looks back at Theo. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "For helping me find him." He's still not sure he trusts Theo but he wouldn't have found Liam or been able to get him out if Theo hadn't been there.

Theo smiles easily. "I'm just glad he's okay." 

The conversation ends there; Lydia comes back with a few blister packs of Tylenol and hands them to Brett. He jogs down the stairs, goes back out into the living room, where Liam's sitting with his legs open, leaned back, slumped into the corner of the couch.

He sits up when Brett approaches him. "What's that?" he asks listlessly, eyeing the blister packs and water with some trepidation.

"Just water. Some Tylenol." He doesn't think Liam could down food right now if he wanted to. He kneels on the floor, begins pulling Liam's shoes off. He feels Liam's hand on the juncture of his neck and shoulder and looks up. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to touch," Liam mumbles. 

Brett nods understandingly. He turns when Lydia enters the room again, carrying a pillow, a thick, woollen blanket, and a towel. She doesn't say anything about the towel. Brett's just grateful for her help. Being reliant on Theo has fried his nerves more than what they already were.

"I got this for him." Lydia holds up a baggy grey shirt. "It's one of his. They all keep a change of clothes at each other's house." 

"Thanks, Lydia," Liam croaks. She nods, passes a hand gently over his hair before heading into the kitchen. Brett listens to the kettle flick on.

"Here." He pulls at Liam's shirt. "This is gross."

Liam lets him pull it off over his head, and Brett dampens the corner of the towel a little bit. "I'm gonna try and clean up your nose," he mutters. "And chin. And everywhere." 

"Okay." Liam sits still while Brett rubs at his mouth and chin, getting all the dried blood off, before wiping down the rest of his face with a different corner. "That feels good," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" Brett's kind of rushing through it, because Liam's shivering. He makes sure to clean the area around Liam's stitches before putting the towel down and picking up the clean shirt. "Here. Put this on."

Liam pulls the shirt on over his head, tugging it until it sits right. Brett reaches for the glass and Tylenol, pops out two tablets. The same fever Liam had at Sinema seems to have set in now, leaving his skin hot to the touch. Liam's more coherent this time around, though, doesn't shy from Brett's touch even if he doesn't seem to be actively seeking it.

Brett reaches over, grabs the glass of water, and hands it to Liam. "Have some water," he murmurs. 

Liam takes the glass, but he makes no moves to drink from it. "I don't..." he tries, then starts again. "I feel sick. I don't want to take anything." 

Brett bows his head, trying to think of a way to get Liam to take the pills. "Look," he says, kneeling down properly, "you lost a lot of blood. You're in pain. At the very least you need to drink some water, try to stay hydrated." Brett nods at the pills in Liam's other hand. "Those'll bring your fever down," he says. "So you can sleep. Help with the pain, too. You aren't healing, so they'll work." 

Liam looks like he's about to cave, but he gives one final counter-argument. "I don't wanna be sick," he whispers. The _not here, not in front of anyone else_ goes unspoken. "I just - my throat hurts, I don't want-" 

Okay. Brett's too fried to argue with him about the pills if they're going to be here all night. "Alright," he says, nodding. "But can you drink? Just a little bit?" 

After a moment, Liam nods, takes a few sips of the water. Brett sits with him quietly. He doesn't expect Liam to finish the glass. Just wants him to drink something before sleeping.

He looks up when Liam throws the pills into his mouth and swallows them with a gulp of water, puts the glass back on the table near the couch. "If they make me sick you owe me," he says weakly. 

Brett can't help but smile. "If they make you sick next round of Chinese food is on me," he agrees. He's glad Liam took them, hopes they bring his fever down a little while he can't heal himself. He stands up, rubs Liam's shoulder briefly.

"Wait here," Brett murmurs. 

"Not going anywhere." Liam smiles at him feebly.

Brett grabs his keys, heads out to his car. His school-issued lacrosse sweatshirt is in the back seat; he grabs it, turning it the right way out as he heads back up to the house. 

Liam's eyes are trained on the door, waiting for him. He seems nervous; Brett doesn't have to look far to notice Theo standing in the corner of the room. He wonders what's got Liam so skittish around him, wonders if maybe he's still not used to Theo in general and that's all there is to it. Liam's kind of a jumpy person around new people. 

But Liam flinched from Theo in the water plant, didn't want him anywhere close by. Does Liam even know he's acting nervous around Theo? Or is it instinctual?

"Here." He passes the hoodie to Liam. "Thought you might be cold." 

"I am." Liam pulls the sweatshirt on slowly, gingerly. "Thanks," he says. "For helping me."

Brett can feel his face and expression softening past what he thought was possible for him. "I wasn't going to leave you," he says softly. 

"I know." Liam's smile is wan, tired; Brett gets on the couch with him, pulls Liam until his legs are curled in Brett's lap. "I heard you howl," Liam says sleepily, tugging the blanket across himself. "I knew you'd turn up." 

Brett's glad one of them had faith in him. Liam tilts his head on the pillow drowsily, watching Brett with half-lidded eyes.

"You told me about your mom," he mumbles.

Brett feels an uncomfortable shiver course down his spine. "Yeah. A little. I was trying to get you to sleep."

Liam's pulled the sleeves of Brett's hoodie down over his fingers, his gaze muted and sleepy. "You should talk about her more," he says quietly. "I mean, not to me. But maybe to your sister. It might help." 

Brett doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say. Normally, he'd snap and tell Liam to mind his own business but Liam isn't just anyone. He's not saying it because he thinks it's what he's meant to say, or because he's a counsellor who gets paid on Brett's anguish, or because he wants to know. He just wants what's best.

"It's weird," Liam says sleepily. "My mom would run into a burning building for me. I know she would. But she didn't leave my dad."

Brett closes his eyes. This is going to tear him apart, he knows it. But has Liam ever talked about it before? Probably not.

"I think he beat us up for months before she made that 911 call," Liam says. "He always blamed my I.E.D, but I think it was just me. He just didn't want me. He didn't want kids at all, but especially not me."

Brett wants to stop him, because who the hell wouldn't want Liam? He's the biggest dork Brett knows, this weird and awkward mix of self-consciousness, arrogance, anger, and fear, but who the hell wouldn't want him? Especially his own father? Because he's also smart, witty, and brave. Loyal. 

"The day Mom called 911," Liam says sleepily. "I remember it. I always tell people I don't but I do. I'd only been diagnosed with I.E.D a few months before. He used to beat me up when I broke stuff or got angry, but I remember this day because I hadn't done anything. I just came home from school and he was drunk, and mad. I was used to that so I just tried to go to my room. Mom always told me to do that. I think he hit her a lot more than he hit me." 

Brett knows where this is heading, because he knows what happened the week after - Liam turned up to school with a cast on his arm and this hollow, frightened look in his eyes and people treated him like it was contagious.

"He whaled on me," Liam mumbles. It seems like he's speaking in a trance, trapped in the no-man's-land between sleep and alertness. "Caught me before I got to my room and started belting me. Mom tried to stop him, but he threw her around a bit too. And normally that was it. Mom would patch me up and we'd pretend it didn't happen. But that day he hit her and then went back to me." 

_He was a fucking kid. Jesus Christ. He was eleven years old-_

"Broke my arm," Liam says absently. "Threw me down the stairs. Kicked me in the back so hard I pissed blood for a week. I thought I was gonna die. Mom called 911. Turns out the neighbours called first, 'cause I was screaming, you know? I don't remember that bit. I don't remember crying but I was." 

_Why is he telling me all this now? Is he still drugged-up? Is that why he's acting like this - like it's no big deal at all?_

"It's so weird," Liam mumbles. "Sheriff Stilinski was the first one on the scene. He rode in the ambulance with me 'cause Mom was in a different one."

"He's a good guy." He turned up at the fire too, Brett remembers. Took him and Lori back to the station. 

"Yeah," Liam says.

He looks drained, but awake. He's watching Brett like he's waiting for a reaction. "She'd walk into a fire for me, but she wouldn't leave my dad," he says. "How fucked up is that?"

"Maybe she didn't know how," Brett says. 

Liam nods. He's curled up with his head turned towards the back of the couch, starting to look sleepy again. 

"Are you going now?" he asks softly.

Brett blinks. "No. Of course not." Where the hell did Liam get the idea that he was going to leave? "Do you want me to?" he asks, mystified.

"No." Liam shakes his head. "I just thought you'd head back to your pack." 

"You are my pack." It's a confusing concept for him, that he feels like Liam is a member of his pack even though they've been doing this for, what, about a month or so, and Liam has a completely different alpha to him. 

Liam smiles. It's worn with exhaustion around the edges. "How does that work?"

"I dunno." Brett lets his hand settle on Liam's calf. "You feeling better?"

Liam nods. His eyes are shut. Brett leans forward, presses a kiss to Liam's brow. Liam tilts his face up searchingly, and Brett kisses his lips as well, softly. 

"Go to sleep, dork," he says, leaning away. "I'll still be here when you wake up." 

Even though he's tired, it's a while before Liam drifts entirely into sleep, barely moving from where he'd originally slumped. Brett's got plans to call Stiles - he knows Stiles doesn't trust Theo either, and he needs someone to work with if he's going to work Theo out - someone who isn't as trusting as Scott is. 

Lydia wanders over to them, sitting down on the couch opposite. "Is he okay?" she asks, and her voice is unnaturally anxious. She really does care about Liam, Brett realises. She might not be a werewolf, but she is pack. 

"He was bad on the way here, and before," Brett says. "But he seems okay now, just run down. He's probably hungry but I don't think we could get him to stay awake long enough for him to eat." Brett doesn't want Theo overhearing anything. "But we can't really be sure. They pumped him full of some sort of black liquid."

"We need Deaton," Lydia says. "But I suppose for now we'll have to deal with just having each other."

Brett nods. Lydia watches Liam sleep for a moment more before standing up and going to talk to Theo. Brett leans his head back, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop the panic he can feel beneath the surface of his skin from rising.

Now that it's all over and the adrenaline is no longer pumping, the panic is setting in. He could've lost Liam. Because Scott's plan didn't work-

He tries not to blame Scott. Scott didn't know his plan wouldn't work. But he can't understand why Hayden wasn't just hidden at Eichen house where they knew the ley lines would work, instead of the school, where they weren't sure. 

Lydia reappears. "I made tea," she whispers. "Do you want some?"

Brett nods. "I'll come out." He needs to move anyway. He moves Liam's legs off his lap and stands, twisting his back to crack it and heading to the kitchen, where there are three steaming mugs.

"I made one for Liam too," Lydia explains. "But he's asleep, right?"

"Completely out to it," Brett agrees.

The sound of tyres on the gravel outside has them both looking out the window; it's Malia's car, and Brett stares as she and Mason get out, closely followed by Scott, who's carrying Hayden. He sees mason gesture excitedly to Theo's truck.

Lydia opens the door for them. "Liam's sleeping," she whispers. "How's Hayden?"

"Mom says she'll be okay." Scott puts her down on the other couch, turns to look at Liam, passes a hand over his shoulder. "Is he okay?" he asks desperately.

"He's been better," Brett says. "But he's okay for now." He thinks seeing the naked, open look of relief and gratitude on Mason's face when he catches sight of Liam might be the best thing he's witnessed for a few days at least. It's topped only by finding Liam alive. 

"Thank you," Scott says, and hugs him.

Brett's surprised to see that Scott's eyes are glittering with unshed tears, and he takes a moment to think that maybe Satomi's right - maybe Scott is a seventeen year old kid in over his head more than he's a true alpha right now. But someone has to watch out for his pack, and if it can't be him, Brett will do it instead. 

Malia's next. She stands in front of him - she's taller than the other two girls, definitely taller than Liam and Mason. She's verging on Scott's height, in fact. 

"You really do care about him," she says bluntly. "I couldn't really tell."

"Yeah," Brett says.

She hugs him too, and he feels her smiling. "Thanks, Brett," she says. 

Brett nods. "It's fine," he says quietly. He doesn't know what to make of all this thanking; he only did what everyone else did, except he got there first. 

"What happened?" Scott asks him.

Brett shakes his head. "Don't know the details," he says. "They were using some kind tube, this huge tube, to filter black stuff into Liam, but we don't know what it was." He's starting to sound like a broken record. 

"Why aren't they healing properly?" Malia asks. "They shouldn't still be cut and bleeding, right?"

"I don't know. Liam's been pretty out of it all night," Brett says. "When we found him he was pretty weak - got worse on the drive here and then better."

"The stuff they were giving Liam," Theo says, and Brett represses the _shut up, Theo_ response that threatens to claw itself out of his mouth. "Could that have interfered with his healing?"

Scott looks overwhelmed. "Uh, maybe, I don't..."

Lydia intervenes. "We can talk when everyone's less tired and less stressed," she says. "For now our priority should be keeping them safe." 

Brett's on board with that. He doesn't wait for the conversation to be finished; he heads back into the living room and is immediately accosted by Mason.

"Dude," he says. "Thank you." 

Brett's really not comfortable with all this thanking; he didn't do it so everyone would owe him. "I wanted to," he says, because it's the closest he can come to the truth. 

Mason claps his shoulder, sits down near Liam's feet. "I told him having a werewolf boyfriend would be totally useful for protection," Mason says. 

"You're the one who needs protection. You're the feeble human." Brett sits down beside the couch, next to Liam's head. He can hear him breathing from here, lets the sound soothe him.

Mason snorts. "Nobody has tried to kill, poison or maim me," he points out.

"Dude. Sinema? Lucas? Giant scorpion stingers?" Brett fights down a yawn.

"That was _one time_ ," Mason argues.

Brett nods at Hayden. "How's she doing?" he asks sleepily. 

"She's okay now. Mrs. McCall said her wounds are starting to heal on their own," Mason says. "She's freaked out. Worried about Liam. But she's okay I think. How's Liam?"

"'Bout the same," Brett mumbles.

Mason leans forward to look at him. "Dude, how long as it been since you slept?" he asks, concerned.

Brett shrugs, rubbing his eyes. "I dunno. I haven't slept since they got taken. So I guess more than a day?" He yawns. "Feels like a year," he admits. 

"You should sleep," Mason says. 

Brett yawns again, hearing his jaw crack. "Maybe later," he says. "What if something happens?"

"I'll wake you up."

"He's right, Brett." It's Lydia, who's attending to Hayden on the other couch. "You should rest. We're all tired. But they're safe now."

Brett twists his head to look at Liam, the way his eyelashes rest on his cheeks, the bone-tired expression on his face, even in sleep, the utter stillness of his body. Looking at Hayden shows her to be much the same, except Lydia is sponging her forehead gently. 

_Maybe I should do that for Liam_ , Brett thinks hazily.

Without thinking, he lifts his hand and puts it on Liam's forehead, using his thumb to stroke Liam's hair back a bit. He rests his head on the couch, sighs deeply. The adrenaline has left his body completely and he's crashing hard and fast. 

"Seriously," Mason says softly. "I know you're worried about him but he'd want you to sleep. Besides, you can't take care of anyone if you can't keep your eyes open."

Brett nods, gets up slowly, and collapses in the recliner chair. He can still see Liam and Hayden from where he's sitting. He'll be ready if anything happens.

He's out before Mason puts a blanket over him.


	10. Ten - Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG  
> AND THAT IT'S SUBPAR  
> THANK YOU FOR READING AND BOOKMARKING AND COMMENTING YOU GUYS ARE THE GREATEST <3  
> ENJOY!

**Chapter Ten - Aftermath**  
"Brett."

Brett groans when he hears the voice calling his name softly. He rubs his face, wishing he could catch a few more minutes of sleep. He's disoriented, confused, not sure of where he is or even why, doesn't know the time or even the day.

"Brett?" The voice is quiet, hesitant. "Are you awake?"

Liam.

He opens his eyes to find Liam bent over him, sleep-tousled and smelling soft and calm. The living room is dark; the pack seems to have spread themselves out on different mattresses and chairs and whatever else they can find. Everyone is here.

Except Theo. 

Brett feels his stomach loosen a bit at that. He can see Stiles and Malia curled in the corner, Scott slumped against the back of a couch, Hayden on the couch with Lydia on a mattress next to her. Liam's couch shows Mason, sitting on the end Liam's feet had been at. But where's Kira? 

He feels Liam's fingers, hesitant, against his own, and loses track of the thought.

"Hey," Brett croaks, voice rough with sleep. He reaches out, grasps the back of Liam's neck, driven by an action that's become habit. "You okay?"

Liam nods. 

Brett sighs with relief. "Come here."

He pulls Liam into his lap, not caring, at this point, who might've woken up enough to notice. Liam goes willingly, slides himself in under Brett's arm. He's shivering.

"You cold?"

"Yeah. That's why I woke up."

"Um." Brett rubs his face; he still feels like he could sleep for another day or so. He finds a blanket over the back of the chair and spreads it over them both. "Better?"

"Little. Yeah."

Liam rests against him for a moment before saying sleepily, "I thought you left."

"When?" Brett asks, confused.

"Before. I was on the couch. You went to your car I think." 

"I left," Brett says slowly, "but only to get you my hoodie. I came straight back." He straightens up, tries to look Liam in the eye, but Liam seems half asleep, out of it, his eyes shut. 

"How much do you remember?" he asks.

Liam shrugs listlessly. "Not a lot." 

"Okay... what do you remember?"

Liam yawns. "I remember you and Theo being there, in the water plant," he says drowsily. "And that you took the thing out of my arm. You carried me to the car. I can't remember why. And... we talked about something in the car?"

"Yeah. We talked a bit. Guardians of the Galaxy and my mom," Brett says. He's kind of glad that there are holes in Liam's memory for the most traumatic events. 

"We didn't talk about anything else?" There's a note of anxiousness in Liam's voice.

"No," Brett says, confused. "Like what?"

Liam shrugs slowly. "Nothin'."

_Okay_ , Brett thinks, watching Liam with raised eyebrows.

"How's your arm? Be honest," Brett says, because he can tell Liam is gearing himself up to try and lie to him. 

"Hurts. Not a lot. It's just aching. In my elbow." Liam sounds pretty sleepy still too, but Brett's just remembered that he hasn't eaten for more than a day, so he's not letting him go back to sleep. The Tylenol didn't make Liam sick and his skin is much cooler, so maybe he can get Liam to eat something.

"Up," he says.

"Why?" Liam whines quietly.

"You need to eat. Up."

Liam gets off him, leads the way to Scott's kitchen carefully, picking his way over the bodies littered around the floor. Brett quietly appreciates the warmth of Liam's hand in his. He wasn't sure, what with the Dread Doctors' track record, that he'd ever get to feel it again. 

Liam sits at the table when they get into the kitchen, blinking sleepily. He's pale and maybe even a little gaunt, but Brett can fix that. He starts making some toast, because it seems like the quietest thing he can make. He finds himself boiling the kettle, finds some chamomile tea Mrs. McCall has in her cupboard.

The toast pops and he slathers it in peanut butter. Liam's stomach growls with interest when he sees it.

Brett smiles. "Hungry?"

"Yeah," Liam admits, taking a huge bite out of one of the corners. "Thanks. I could've..."

"I know." He lets Liam chew through one of the four slices of toast while he pours the tea. "Here."

Liam wrinkles his nose. "What's that?"

"Chamomile."

Liam blinks. "You sound like my grandma."

"Satomi is really into natural healing," Brett says. "Even though we're werewolves. Chamomile is meant to be calming." He notices that Liam's already worked his way through two slices of toast. "Why didn't you tell me you were hungry sooner?"

"I only just woke up!" Liam's voice is muffled by the mouthful of peanut butter he's got. "Want some?"

Brett shakes his head. "I'm good, Liam. You eat it." 

He remembers, then, Liam's stitched-up side and leans forward. Liam doesn't protest when Brett pulls up his hoodie and shirt to check the wounds, just straightens out his torso to make it easier. 

The wound hasn't quite closed yet, even though it looks like it's on the way, slowly. The area around it is still and angry red colour and puffy, but Liam doesn't seem to have a fever so his body must have fought off the infection. Another day, maybe, will see it properly healed.

"Does this hurt?" he asks softly.

Liam looks down like he's forgotten it's there. "No," he says. "It did when I woke up. Not now though." 

He watches Liam eat, his body covered in Brett's school-issued lacrosse sweatshirt, hood bunched up under his ears. He doesn't drown in it, exactly - Liam's pretty broad and muscular for his age - but it definitely doesn't fit him well either. His hair, usually spiked up at the front with gel, is starting to fall limp, not quite over his forehead but getting there. 

He's alive.

It sort of hits Brett like a ton of bricks, hours after first discovering the fact; Liam is alive, sitting in front of him, ploughing his way through a pile of toast. There's colour coming back to his cheeks already, and even though he's still pretty thoroughly covered in grime, he looks better.

Brett feels his eyes sting and gets up before they can start to stream right there, in front of Liam. He pours himself a cup of tea too, but his hands are shaking and he gets hot water on the countertop. He sponges it up slowly.

The first tear slips off his nose, and he doesn't think Liam's noticed yet - probably has about thirty seconds before he does, exactly that amount of time, maybe less, to yank himself back together. Liam's fine. There's no reason for him to be losing his shit here, now, when he didn't in front of everyone before. 

The clock tells him it's just past two in the morning. They've only been sleeping five hours. 

Five hours isn't enough. How long was Liam down there? A day? A little more? How long was that black stuff getting pumped into him? How long did Liam wait for him to show up before he started to think he wouldn't?

He wasn't fast enough. That's going to haunt him for a while. He got there in time, but it wasn't fast enough, not good enough. Liam still got hurt. Liam still nearly died. 

"Brett?"

He jumps; Liam's right behind him. "Yeah?" His voice is steady, but his scent has to be giving him away. 

"I'm okay."

Brett tilts his head up, willing the tears to disappear back into his eyes. "I thought you'd be dead before I got there," he says.

He feels Liam's arms around his middle, turns to scoop him up into a proper hug, with Liam's face in Brett's throat. He rests his chin on Liam's hair, fists the hoodie between his hands, drags Liam as close as he can. 

"Fuck, Liam, I'm so sorry," he rasps.

"Brett, you saved us - both of us," Liam points out. "We'd both be dead if you and Theo hadn't come when you did. And Scott didn't know where we were, you did. You told him where to find Hayden and you came and found me."

"No, Liam - he did. He did know, just not exactly where, okay?" Brett swallows. "I don't know how Theo knew where you were. It was him who found you, not me."

"Whatever," Liam says, and Brett has to smile at the sullen tone of his voice. "I'm..."

Brett pulls away, wipes his eyes. "You're what? Are you okay?" He thinks this might be the first time Liam's seen him cry.

Liam smiles. "Tired. Kind of achy. But I'm okay. The toast helped." He stands back a bit. "I was gonna say I'm gross," he admits. "I need a shower."

"Lead the way."

Liam smiles. "You don't have to come with me."

"I want to." 

So Liam heads up the stairs, Brett following closely behind, vigilant for any signs of weakness or lethargy in Liam. None come; he climbs the stairs fine, albeit sluggishly, the way someone does when they're tired and can't be bothered.

He heads into Scott's room, which is empty, and into the en suite bathroom joined to it. He turns to look at Brett when they're inside with the door shut and light switched on. The fan whirrs to life over their heads.

Brett steps close, helps Liam out of his hoodie and shirt. He's relieved to find that the wound on Liam's side doesn't seem to be impeding his movement - in fact, the only thing giving him trouble is his arm, which he's moving gingerly. His hair sticks up at the back where it got caught on the hoodie. 

"I stink," Liam says.

Brett gives a weak chuckle. "It's fine." He undoes the fastenings on Liam's jeans. "Do you have any clean clothes to get into?" he asks. 

Liam nods. "Scott has a set of my clothes in his bedroom," he says. "For when I um, for when I wolf out and tear all my clothes off."

Brett snorts. "Right. I'll find them." Liam's pulling his jeans and socks off, standing in his boxers. "Hop in," Brett says. "I'll find the clothes."

Liam nods, leaning into the shower and turning on the water. It doesn't take Brett long to find Liam's clothes; they're the only thing that smell distinctly like him in Scott's room.  
Liam's only just stepping into the shower when Brett gets back, giving a long, relieved sigh. Brett watches as the water sluices through the grime on his body, runs almost black with the amount of dirt on his skin and in his hair. 

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," he says.

Liam huffs at him, scrubbing at his hair vigorously with shampoo. That, too, turns off-white with dirt. Liam's an industrial showerer; he gets in, gets clean and gets out, but today seems to be an exception. He settles under the spray of water for almost ten minutes with Brett watching him, seemingly reluctant to get out. 

"Are you gonna watch the whole time?" Liam asks him. There's no irritation in his voice; he seems genuinely curious.

"I don't know. How long will you be in for?"

"I could stay here all day," Liam groans, rotating so the water hits his back. When he does, Brett notices that he's not quite half hard, and has probably been trying to hide it from him for the last ten minutes.

Liam notices him looking. "What?" he whines. "You're watching me shower."

"Well, I don't have to just watch," Brett says. "I could get in." He nods at Liam's erection. "Give you a hand."

Liam doesn't respond, stares at him with his teeth in his lower lip, clearly conflicted.

"We don't have to, Liam," Brett says softly.

"No, I - I want to. It's just - I'm tired. I don't know if I can, you know..." He sounds embarrassed, small, over the spray of water.

Brett stands up and takes his shirt off. "I'll make it easy for you," he murmurs. "You won't have to do anything."

Liam nods, seeming a little more enthusiastic now. Brett strips off completely and steps under the water with him; the shower is only just big enough for both of them.

He rubs Liam's sides softly, gently, kneading some pressure points on the way and working out kinks in his muscles. Liam leans against the shower wall, sighing. He's definitely interested now, his prick standing at half-attention.

"Turn around," Brett murmurs. "Don't worry about anything."

Liam turns to face the wall and Brett wraps an arm around his hips, kissing the sinewy muscles that make up Liam's back and shoulders. He feels it when Liam sighs contentedly, snakes his other hand down. Liam doesn't move as Brett slides his hand down, around, until his fingers can brush lightly against Liam's perineum. 

Only then does Liam move, a slight tremble as he pushes against Brett's arm around his hips. He's already slick and wet from soapy water, and Brett slides a little further, slowly, giving Liam the chance to say no. 

He doesn't. In fact, he gives a short, quiet whine when Brett presses at his entrance, and Brett decides not to tease him, not today. He said he'd make it easy and he's going to keep his promise. 

He presses the first finger in, gently, and Liam opens up to him even without lube, sighing. Brett moves his finger around a bit, a stroking movement rather than a thrust.  


Liam breathes out softly. "That's good," he murmurs. 

"Good." Brett moves the arm around Liam's hips and grasps his cock gently. Liam squeezes, clenching around him, before relaxing a bit. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." Liam rocks back. "Don't - I don't wanna be loud," he mumbles. "The pack..."

Brett listens. They're all still sleeping. "We're fine. They're asleep. But yeah, okay, I got it." He presses his chest against Liam's back. "I want you to tell me to stop if you don't wanna keep going," Brett says. "Or if I hurt you, alright?"

"I will. It's nice though. Maybe, um-"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you uh - could use another finger?" Liam's voice has dropped to near-whisper levels. "I just um, I like it when you do that thing, where you split them?"

"Scissoring. Okay, I can do that." He'd do anything right now, to be truthful. He's just so glad Liam's alive. "I'd be happy to, even," he adds. He makes sure the other finger is wet enough - the lack of lube is only gonna be a problem if Liam wants any more than this - and then nudges it in along with the first.

Liam trembles, his dick twitching in Brett's grasp. Brett can see his thighs shaking, but he holds still for a moment, lets Brett call the shots. 

Brett pumps him slowly, languidly. He's not going to make Liam work for this, but he is enjoying being soft and gentle with him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You can move."

He begins the same movement as before, stroking with a wide, sweeping range inside Liam, then scissoring his fingers. Liam lets out a quiet whimper.

"I got you," Brett murmurs in his ear. "I got you, baby." 

There it is again. Brett's not exactly the kind of guy who goes around calling people "baby" and somehow he doesn't think Liam's the kind of guy who would particularly appreciate it, but here, it feels right. 

He tightens his grip slightly, twists his wrist on his next pass over Liam's dick, thumbs at the slit on the head on the way up. Liam clenches, then relaxes slowly, like he's forcing himself to do it.

"Good?" he murmurs. "Could you come from this?"

"Yeah." Liam's voice is shaking. "Yeah. I will." 

"Told you." He pushes with a little more force this time, seeking Liam's prostate. "I'm gonna make it easy," he promises. "Do whatever you want," he adds on the end. "It's for you."

Liam pushes back against him. "Slow," he murmurs. 

"What's that?"

"I - don't want it hard."

"Okay." 

Brett leans against Liam's body, continuing his ministrations. He uses every trick in the book he knows - pressing on the prostate gland, stroking it, scissoring his fingers out, curling them, all the while jacking Liam slowly and steadily. 

He notices, after some time, that Liam's heartbeat is rising, that the soft, satisfied sighs and occasional murmurs have been replaced with panting. He's getting gradually tighter, and Brett knows he's starting to get close.

"That's it," he says. "You're doing great." He doesn't know why that comes to mind, decides not to question it. Liam's rocking against him, but the movements are unhurried. "Want me to make you come now?" Brett murmurs.

"Yeah," Liam croaks. "Yeah, please." 

Brett gets to work, finds the prostate again, and begins to move his hand in earnest, speeding up. He barely has time to before it's all over; Liam moans, "God, Brett, yes-" and gasps as his orgasm spills over onto Brett's hand.

Brett wrings him dry, satisfied when Liam's muscles begin to slump from their tightly-wound position. He pulls out, cleans his hands off in the spray, turns Liam around.

He's flushed, lips red where he's bitten them. "Wow," he mumbles.

"I told you I'd make it easy," Brett says with a smile. "Come on. Your tea is probably cold."

"Oh yeah," Liam says vaguely.

Brett shuts the water off and towels them both dry outside the shower. Liam's yawning hugely, looking like he's ready to go back to bed. "What about you?" he asks.

Brett shakes his head. "Don't worry about me," he says. "I'm fine." 

Liam pulls Brett's hoodie on. "I owe you," he says.

"You don't owe me," Brett says. "I wanted to do it." 

Their tea is still steaming slightly when they get back downstairs. Liam slumps into his chair, cradling the mug between his hands, blinking tiredly.

He smells better already, although that could just be because the shower washed away the dirt and grime and fear of the last day. He doesn't seem like he's hurting, either, which is a plus. 

"How're you feeling?" Brett asks.

Liam yawns. "Tired." 

Brett nods. "Figured."

Liam's quiet as he drinks his tea, and Brett realises, halfway through the mug, that Liam's eyes are half-closed and getting closer to sleep with every minute that passes. He knew the tea would help, but he didn't know it would be this effective.

He takes the mug out of Liam's hands and sets it aside. "You want to sleep?"

Liam nods groggily.

"Okay. Come on." He hustles Liam upright, takes him back to the couch. Liam protests - something about wanting to sleep with Brett - but as much as Brett likes that idea, Liam will rest properly laid out flat. 

Once he's back on the couch, Brett covers him up and sits down with a sigh. Mason barely stirs when Liam's feet land in his lap again. 

He looks around the living room. Everyone here knows he and Liam are a thing now. He doesn't have anything to hide anymore.

"Sit up," he whispers to Liam.

"Make up your mind," Liam grumbles, but sits up. Brett slips in behind him, dragging the blankets up as Liam says, "What are you-"

"Everyone knows anyway. Fuck it. Relax, okay?"

Liam nods, yawns, and curls in close to him. Brett has a brief moment to hope Mason doesn't find this too weird to wake up to before he falls asleep.

~*~

"Brett."

He opens his eyes to Mason shaking his shoulder slightly. "Yeah?" he groans.

Mason nods at his chest. "How's he doing?"

"Who?" Brett asks blankly. At Mason's incredulous expression, he looks down at his chest; Liam's curled up against him, head down, blanket pulled almost completely over his eyes, a frown set on his face.

"Oh." Brett rubs his face. "He's okay. Had a shower last night." 

Mason nods. "Why's he look cranky?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." As he's saying it, Liam cracks one eye open, enough to glare at both of them.

"It's too bright," he complains.

It is pretty bright in Scott's living room, even this early. Brett realises that's probably why Liam's got the blanket over his face - he's trying to block out the light and go to sleep. He doesn't seem embarrassed that Mason's witnessed him snuggling Brett like a kitten, though.

Baby steps, Brett thinks to himself. 

Mason reaches over and pats Liam's shoulder. "Glad you're okay, dude," he says. "We didn't know if..."

Liam pulls the blanket off his face. He's pale, but Brett supposes that's something that happens when you're kidnapped by homicidal maniacs and experimented on. "Yeah," he mumbles. "I know. Glad to be back."

Brett looks around, alarmed to find Theo sitting in the armchair Brett previously occupied. He looks like he's asleep, but Brett isn't convinced. When it comes to Theo, he's not convinced of anything. Especially his innocence.

"Man, I'm starving," Mason says, standing up. "Want anything?" 

"Be out soon," Brett yawns. 

Mason nods as he strolls to Scott's kitchen. Liam, meanwhile, is quiet against Brett's chest, still.

"Hey," Brett says. "You doing okay?"

Liam shrugs, yawns. "Tired." 

Brett nods. "You want anything for breakfast?" he asks.

Liam shakes his head. "Maybe later." He moves for Brett to get up. "You should eat though," he mumbles. "Your stomach's growling."

"Yeah, I will. Go back to sleep." He's kind of wary about leaving Liam, but he's surrounded by his pack, and he's going to be only a few feet away. Besides, Liam looks like he could go back to sleep, with his eyelids drooping tiredly and his muscles still lax. Brett drops the blanket back over him. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he says, yawning.

Liam gives a slight nod. He's pulled the blanket back up over his eyes. 

Mason's in the kitchen eating a banana when Brett gets out there. The toaster is on, and Brett can smell the bread inside singeing slowly. His stomach growls. 

"Hey," Mason says.

Brett slumps down at the table. "Hi," he says, sleepily. "You slept through the night?"

"Yeah. You?"

Brett shakes his head. "Liam woke up halfway through. Had something to eat, then took a shower. We slept after that."

Mason nods. "Was Theo here when you went back to sleep?"

Brett shakes his head. "No." The thought that Theo could've snuck back inside when Liam and Brett were sleeping on the couch, without Brett noticing, kind of freaks him out.  
Mason sits down with a plate of toast and pushes it to the middle of the table for them to share. "How's he really doing?" he asks quietly.

Brett shrugs. "He was pretty bad when we found him," he admits. "Big gaping wound in his side, he could barely walk. Bad on the way back too. But he seems better now. He wasn't healing so Lydia stitched him up, but I think it'll be fine by the end of the day. He was more worried about Hayden."

"She's alright. She was already stitched up when we took her to Mrs. McCall." Mason looks past Brett, into the living room, when Liam's dozing on the couch. "You sure he's okay?" he asks hesitantly. 

Liam's pretty pale, but the only bad chemo signals Brett's picking up are the ones that indicate pain in his side and his arm. "He's in a little pain," he says. "But other than that good. Why?"

"He's just... I don't know. Off," Mason says. "Not Liam."

Brett nods, chewing slowly on his toast. Mason's right; there's something about Liam that's not quite right at the moment, but Brett can't pick up what it is. He thinks Satomi might be able to if he can get Liam there - but Liam might still be too sick and too injured to move, even though he was fine to shower last night.

"It could just be that he's still pretty weak," Brett says softly. "I mean, Mason, he was bad. He was really bad."

Mason nods, but he still doesn't seem to be getting it. Brett decides not to bother; Mason doesn't need to know how afraid he or Liam were on the drive back. 

They look up when they hear a noise, but it's only Mrs. McCall coming downstairs. _She must have finished her shift sometime during the night, after seeing Hayden_ , Brett realises.

"Morning, boys," she says softly. "How's everyone doing?"

"Better," Brett says. "Well, I think."

She nods, peers out of the kitchen at Liam, who's gone back to sleep on the couch and isn't even stirring. Liam's a pretty light sleeper, so he must really be out to not be disturbed by three people talking less than ten feet away from him.

"How's his side?" she asks softly.

Brett shakes his head. "It hasn't healed yet," he says. 

She frowns. "At all?"

"It's getting there. It's slow, though." Brett's reluctant to say much more, so he finishes on, "it should've healed by now," and then takes a bite out of his toast.

Mrs. McCall nods. "Look, I'm heading back to work," she says. "Lydia and Hayden are going to come by later. You should bring Liam. I'll check him over at the hospital and make sure everything is okay." 

Brett nods; if anyone other than Satomi is able to tell them why Liam isn't healing, it'll be Mrs. McCall, especially with Deaton not around. Brett wonders where the hell the vet shot through to when they needed him this badly. 

Mrs. McCall takes a slice of toast from the plate. "Try to get him to eat something," she says to them. "He might not feel like it but he looks like he needs it." With that, she's leaving, Brett and Mason watching her go.

"I dunno how we're gonna get him to eat," Brett admits. "Considering that he's so stubborn he won't skip school even when he's puking." 

"Guilt him into it," Mason suggests. "It always worked when his mom did it." 

"S'pose I could try it," Brett mumbles. 

They let Liam sleep a little longer, barely talking as they scrounge up more food and try to keep their eyes open. 

They're only disturbed when Hayden and Lydia enter the room. Hayden still looks dirty and frightened, but she sits down at the table anyway and says, "so it wasn't a dream?"

"Nope," Brett says moodily. "Apparently not."

She turns around. "Is Liam okay?" she asks, sounding concerned. "They had this thing in his arm, we couldn't get it out-"

"He's doing fine," Brett yawns. "He's just sleepy. Like the rest of us. Thought we'd let him rest a little while longer." Liam still hasn't moved, even an inch, on the couch; he must be exhausted to be sleeping the way he is. At least he's not having any nightmares that Brett can tell of, though that might come later. 

"Sleep is good for him," Lydia says softly. "Are you coming to the hospital with Hayden and I?"

Brett shakes his head. "I'll drive there later." He's hoping that Liam wakes up soon, in his own time, because if he's sleeping this deeply Brett doesn't want to disturb it. There's the added factor that he doesn't know what Liam's going to be like once he's really awake; he might be sick, or in pain, or not want to move anywhere, and Brett doesn't know how he'll deal with it. He's too tired to think straight, let alone coax Liam into doing anything.

There's a little more discussion, but ultimately Lydia and Hayden leave for the hospital. It's been almost an hour and a half since everyone woke up, and Brett's slowly begun to realise that Liam isn't going to rise on his own. 

"I'm gonna wake him up," he sighs to Mason. "He probably needs to eat something anyway." 

"Yeah. Okay. I'll get some more toast on or something."

Brett heads out into the living room, careful not to disturb anyone still sleeping, and leans over Liam, reluctant to wake him even though he knows Liam needs to eat more. "Liam," he murmurs. "Hey. Wake up." 

Liam sighs softly, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily at Brett. "Huh?"

"Hey. We let you sleep a little longer, but you need to eat something." 

Liam's eyes drift around the room slowly, taking everything in. "Everyone's still sleeping," he says drowsily. "What time is it?"

"It's late. Everyone had a long night though." Brett peels the blanket back slowly, ignoring Liam's grumbling, and pushes up his shirt and hoodie. The wound on his side is still red and angry-looking, but it's not hot around the edges anymore, and Brett can see that it's beginning to close, slowly, on its own.

Liam cranes his neck and looks down. "Does it look better?"

"Yeah. It does." Brett pulls the shirt back down. "Come out and eat?"

Liam stands up reluctantly, follows Brett into the kitchen. "Where's Kira?" he asks.

Mason shakes his head. "No idea. She wasn't with us last night."

"Well, she wasn't with us, either," Brett says. He puts some bread in the toaster, gets out the peanut butter. Liam's at the sink, chugging down a glass of water thirstily.

"How're you feeling?" Mason asks. 

Liam shifts uncomfortably. "Okay. Better." 

Mason and Brett share a look as Liam refills the glass; he barely looks any better, still pale and favouring his side and arm, his movements slow and deliberate with the hesitancy of someone who's trying not to cause themselves further pain. 

God, Liam, Brett thinks. What the hell did they do to you down there? Because Liam's every movement looks like it's slow and agonising in its execution, like Liam doesn't want to do anything other than lie around and try not to hurt. 

"Brett."

It's Stiles; he's standing in the doorway, motions at Brett to follow him. He does, because Liam's standing and fine and Mason's here anyway.

"How's Liam?" Stiles asks.

"Better. But still pretty crappy," Brett says. "What's up?"

Stiles begins heading outside, shooting a look at Theo, who's still slumped in the armchair and shaking his head. "Theo was with you, right?" he asks as he leans up against his Jeep. "When you found Liam?"

"Yeah." Brett shakes his head. "Wouldn't have found Liam without him," he says, even though he's reluctant to admit it. "He knew where the water plant was."

Stiles frowns. "He knew?"

"Yeah. Didn't need a GPS or anything."

Stiles nods. "What'd he do once you were inside?"

"He helped me find Liam," Brett says. "He shot through, though. Right after we found him, Theo said he was going to go look for Hayden; I said no because I thought the Doctors might turn up again and that we'd need his help if that happened, because Liam couldn't even really stand. He wandered off, though. For about ten minutes."

"And you let him?" Stiles asks incredulously.

"I was more concerned with, you know, not letting Liam bleed out then and there," Brett snaps back. "I didn't give a fuck where Theo was." 

"How much does Liam remember?"

"I don't know," Brett says, getting more and more irritated with this conversation. "Look, I didn't exactly interrogate him once we got him out. He barely remembers what happened on the drive home." 

Stiles nods a little. "I don't trust Theo," he murmurs.

"Does anyone?" Brett deadpans.

"Scott does. And I think the others might be starting to as well." Stiles looks like he's swallowed a lemon at that prospect. "Something isn't right about him, you know? I think he's hiding something." 

"You think he had something to do with all this?"

"I don't know," Stiles murmurs. "Maybe. But we won't know for sure. Why did he help you find Liam if he did?"

"The Doctors didn't want Liam," Brett points out. "They wanted Hayden. Liam just got in the way." 

"Yeah, but my point is, why not just kill him?" Stiles argues. "We know they don't have a problem with maiming and dismembering people. So why not just put him down? It would've saved them the trouble of having to separate him and Hayden." 

"Maybe they wanted to torture him," Brett says. As he does, something in his chest clenches; that's exactly what they did. They tortured Liam for no reason other than apparent enjoyment. That, more than anything, makes Brett realise that their lives are worth less than nothing to the Doctors. 

"Yeah. Or maybe they were experimenting on him," Stiles says. "Either way, we've got them back now but - I wanna keep an eye on Theo."

"Yeah. I'll help." Should he mention to Stiles that Liam flinches whenever he sees Theo? It can't hurt. "Listen, um, I don't know if this helps or anything, but every time Liam sees Theo he flinches. Like he doesn't want him anywhere near him or something. I was thinking... when he was drugged, he said he saw a man. He said something about it last night too, that the same man was there. I don't think he remembers now though."

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't help that he doesn't remember," he gripes.

"Yeah. I'm gonna take him to Satomi. She might be able to help."

"Better get moving, then," Stiles says. 

Brett nods, heads back into the house; Mason is still in the kitchen, his head down, looking at his phone, but Liam is nowhere to be found.

Brett listens intently, isolates the sound of Liam's heartbeat coming faintly from somewhere upstairs. He climbs them two at a time, finds Liam in Scott's bathroom.

Liam meets his eyes in the mirror when he comes in; he's brushing his teeth slowly, like it's costing him more effort than it should. He leans forward and spits, and Brett waits until he's done before he asks, "What're you doing?"

Liam straightens up slowly, wincing. "I'm coming with you," he says in a tone that leaves no room for an argument. 

Brett hesitates. He doesn't want to coddle Liam - okay, so maybe he does, but he knows he shouldn't - but Liam really doesn't look like he's fit for going anywhere other than back to the couch for more rest. He's standing, but his scent and chemo-signals are all wrong, and he's favouring the side of his body that has the injuries. 

"You don't have to," Brett says finally. "You could stay here if you wanted."

Liam shakes his head, managing to squeeze past Brett and into Scott's bedroom. There's a pile of clothes on the bed. "I'm going with you," he says again.

Brett runs a hand through his hair. "Liam," he says softly. "You know, you're not gonna be a very good guard dog at the moment."

Liam shrugs. "I don't have to be. If the Doctors find us all you have to do is run faster than me. Which shouldn't be hard."

Brett smiles. "I wouldn't leave you." 

Liam straightens up. "I know," he sighs. "I just don't - I don't wanna stay here. I don't feel good about being here."

Brett steps forward. "Why?" he asks, concerned. "Your whole pack is here."

Liam's silent, but he looks like he wants to say something, so Brett doesn't push it. Instead, he heads over to the bed and looks at the clothes. "You don't have to put jeans on," he says, concerned. "Sweats are probably more comfortable."

Liam shakes his head. "I wanna get dressed."

"Okay." Brett sits on the bed, watching as Liam strips down slowly, painfully, and redresses, tugging his shirt until it doesn't sit tight on his wound. He tries to help, but Liam shoots him a warning glance, telling him silently to back off. 

"Listen," Brett says. "Mrs. McCall wants me to bring you by the hospital today, just to check you're alright. That you're healing okay. Will you go?"

"Can't hurt," Liam mumbles. He sinks onto the bed beside Brett, sighs a little, and puts his head on Brett's shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, just closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a few minutes.

Brett's never seen Liam seek out comfort this way before. He nuzzles Liam's hair, scents him. Liam seems fatigued. Flat-out dead to the world tired. He's breathing like it's the hardest thing he's ever done. 

"Li?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. I'm not sleeping." He sounds halfway there, though.

"Let's go," Brett says. "To the hospital. You can sleep on the way there. But the sooner you get checked out the sooner you can rest properly, yeah?" 

Liam nods, pushes himself to his feet. "Okay. We can go." 

By the time they get back downstairs, Theo has woken up and is in the kitchen, being eyed suspiciously by Stiles; Liam manages to skirt as far around him as possible. Malia is sitting at the table; she stands up when they enter, her brown eyes on Liam, brimming with concern.

"You smell terrible," she says.

"I showered," Liam argues back feebly.

"No, you're hurt," Malia says. "I can smell it. What happened?"

"The Doctors like me even less than they like you guys, I guess," Liam jokes weakly.

Malia sees that Brett's carrying a bag. "Where are you going?" she asks suspiciously. "Liam should sleep-"

"I'm fine," Liam says.

"We're going to the hospital to get it all checked out," Brett says. "Just to make sure everything is okay. I might swing by my place, see if Satomi knows anything about it." 

"We should meet up here again," Malia says. "Later. Just to regroup."

"Okay." Brett will agree to anything right now; he just wants to get Liam to the hospital to get him checked out. "Yeah."

They leave after that; Liam's coughing as he sinks into Brett's front passenger seat. Brett talks, but Liam's quiet and mostly unresponsive; Brett's not sure if it's because he's sick, tired, moody, or a combination of the three.

Brett glances at Liam when he winces as they drive over a speed bump. "You okay?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. Just, the speed bumps aren't fun." Liam's still wincing, pressing a hand into his side gingerly. "Feels sort of like there's a knife in there. Or a fork. Or something." 

Brett pulls over on the side of the road, right outside some old person's house with their yapping poodle in the front yard. "Show me."

Liam lifts his shirt up. Brett winces for him; the wound must have been jostled in the last hour or so, because it's weeping blood and looks sore again. "Did you wrench it?" he asks. "It's bleeding again. That's probably why it hurts." 

Liam shifts uncomfortably. "It should have healed by now."

Brett nods. "Yeah. But you're still recovering from... last night." He doesn't even want to say what happened, feels like he'll be jinxing it or making it real or something. It's easy enough to pretend it was all just some awful nightmare as long as he doesn't think too long or hard. "So maybe it's taking a bit longer. You were pretty roughed up."

"Has that happened to you before?" Liam asks.

Brett shakes his head. "No, but I've never been injured that badly," he says as he pulls out of the parking space and resumes the trip to the hospital. "So I wouldn't know. Satomi might." 

Liam nods. "Is that where we're going now?"

"After the hospital," Brett says. "I figure you can just sleep or something while I talk to Satomi."

"I could sleep now," Liam admits. "Right here. Or anywhere."

"Why don't you? I'll wake you up when we get there."

Liam dozes a bit, but he doesn't completely drop off, so when the car stops at the hospital, he lifts his head sleepily. "Already?" he groans.

"Yeah. I even drove extra slow." 

Liam gives him a sleepy smile. "Thanks." 

They enter through the main entrance, sitting down in the waiting area until Mrs. McCall appears and motions them through. Brett's wolf is whining; he hates hospitals, the smell of sickness and death and blood, usually hidden behind the industrial antiseptic, completely unmasked by his werewolf sense of smell. 

Liam takes his hand as they walk; he must know Brett's nervous.

"Through here, boys," Mrs. McCall says. "Just wait here. Hop up on the table, Liam, I'll be back soon."

Liam hops onto the table with little effort; at least his arm seems better. Brett takes up a space in the corner of the room, away from all the instruments and anatomy posters.  
"Do you think everything's fine?" Liam asks quietly. He's pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, trying to get them down to cover his hands, shivering a little in the cold of the hospital room.

Brett watches as, across the hall, Mrs. McCall speaks to a doctor. "I'm sure it is," he says. "You're feeling better, right?"

"A little." Liam crosses his arms, swings his legs a little on the exam bench. "I mean, my head doesn't really hurt anymore." 

Brett turns to watch Liam properly, notices that he's pale and that his fingertips are white, even as he shoves them into the folds of his arms and pulls his legs up so he can sit cross-legged on the exam table. He's shaking a little.

Brett raises his eyebrows. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah," Liam says.

Brett moves, goes to sit on the exam table with him, presses up close. Liam leans against him slightly, staring out at where Mrs. McCall is standing.

"How's your stitches?" Brett asks.

"They're... I dunno." Liam shrugs. "They don't really hurt. But it feels kinda hot. Like the skin is puffy or something?"

Before Brett gets the chance to answer, the door opens and Mrs. McCall enters. She smiles at Liam warmly. "Hi, boys. How're we doing?"

"Okay," Liam says.

"Good." She pulls on a pair of gloves. "I'll try and make it quick, Liam," she says kindly. "Hayden was only here for half an hour or so. Then you can go home and get some rest." 

Liam smiles a little. He looks tired; the circles under his eyes are a deep purple in colour. "That sounds pretty good," he says. "I could probably sleep for a week."

Mrs McCall laughs. "Alright, sweetie. Can you take your shirt off for me?"

Brett scoots so that Liam can lift his shirt over his head. His whole torso explodes into goose bumps when he does, and he crosses his arms across his chest shyly, not meeting Mrs. McCall's eyes or Brett's. There's a blush working its way up his neck.

"Alright." She takes the stethoscope from around her neck, presses the pad between her hands for a few seconds. "Straighten up. Let's listen to you." 

Liam straightens himself up and takes a deep breath when Mrs. McCall prompts him to. After a few more, she moves round to his back, listens to a few spots there.

"Well, that all sounds good," she says. "Your heart rate is a little high, though. I'm just going to take your temperature, then we'll have a look at your stitches."

Liam sits quietly with the thermometer in his mouth as Mrs. McCall potters around across the room, getting a few different instruments organised and ready for whatever it is she has planned. She returns when the thermometer beeps.

Brett can see the frown on her face as she examines the number. Liam looks at her nervously. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she says. "We're going to try that one again in a few minutes." She puts the thermometer down; Brett sees that the numbers say 101.3 before it resets back to zero. Liam has a fever. Except he shouldn't even be able to have one, what with being a werewolf and all. It does explain all the shivering and sweating he's been doing, though.

"This looks..."  
Brett leans around to look at the stitches. The skin around them is inflamed and swollen, a deep, angry red; the wound hasn't completely closed yet, and it looks like it might have bled again recently. "This is infected," Mrs. McCall says softly, probing the area gently. "We need to get this cleaned up."

"How?" Liam asks.

"I'm just going to try and sponge is clean for now," Mrs. McCall says. "It doesn't look serious, and I don't want to take the stitches out unless I have to." 

Liam looks relieved at that. He sits up straight to let Mrs. McCall clean the wound.

"How was Hayden?" he asks.

"Much better." Mrs. McCall picks up a cotton pad and soaks it in something. "Her wounds have completely healed. In fact, she's doing better than you are."

Liam scowls; Brett shakes his head in disbelief. Even now, after everything, Liam apparently still can't stand being beaten by Hayden. Even if it's in some twisted competition of "who recovered faster from butchering and near death at the hands of supernatural maniacs", apparently.

"All done." Mrs. McCall straightens up. "I want you to rest, okay? You're running a bit of a temperature. That's probably the infection, but take it easy and try to eat something, alright?"

"Okay." Liam wriggles down from the table gingerly, picks up his shirt, and begins to pull it on. "Thanks, Mrs. McCall."

She smiles, gives Liam a rub on the shoulder and a quick peck on the forehead. "No problem, sweetie. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Promise," Liam says.

~*~

The drive to Brett's is mostly uneventful, punctured only by Liam sleepily noting that the trees are beginning to turn yellow and gold with the impending cooler weather.

"Trees do move you know," he yawns. "In the wind."

"Wow, Liam. Great observation. And um, why did you tell me that?"

"You said you were a terrible tree in that play," Liam reminds him. He sounds drowsy, like he's on the verge of falling asleep. "Because you moved. But trees do move." 

"Do they stagger around stages thinking about how they'd rather be dead than in an elementary school play?"

"I don't know what they're thinking," Liam says. "They're _trees_." 

"... That would be the point you choose to labour on, wouldn't it?" 

The conversation peters out after that; Liam dozes in the front seat until they pull up at Brett's place. The car stopping must jolt him awake, because even as Brett leans over to shake him, he's opening his eyes and peering around sleepily.

Brett opens the door and steps out, waiting for Liam to follow him before locking the car and entering the security code on the gate. When he steps inside his pack's living area, he sighs at the cool air on his face.

Liam's dragging along behind him, his footsteps slow and tired. He looks pale, wiped out, more like a wax figure than himself.

"Come inside," Brett says softly.

Liam follows him through the common room, trails him to his room. Brett puts his things down in the corner and says, "Lie down."

Liam looks up. "I'm fine," he protests.

Brett shakes his head. "You're exhausted," he says. "Rest, Liam. No one is judging you. You're safe here." 

Liam slumps down onto the bed, shoulders hunched miserably. "How long are we staying here?" he asks. "Where's your pack?"

"They're probably all working," Brett says. "And we'll stay as long as you want." He strips his shirt off, body aching for a shower, unbuttons his jeans and kicks those off too. "Why?" he asks as he heads to his drawers.

Liam shrugs. "I don't wanna go home," he says plaintively. "It's too quiet." 

Brett nods. "You gonna strip off to sleep?" he asks. He doesn't mind if Liam sleeps in his shirt and jeans but feels like he might be more comfortable out of them. 

Liam shrugs. "My side," he says awkwardly. "I don't wanna bleed on your sheets." 

Brett can't help but smile. "You think of everything, don't you?" he asks fondly. "Wait here. I'll find something."

He manages to scrounge up a gauze pad and some tape in the bathroom, takes it back to Liam, who looks like he's dozing off sitting up. "Hey," he says. "Just a few more minutes. Take your shirt off."

"What happened to wining and dining?" Liam faux-complains, stripping his shirt off and letting Brett tape the gauze down. He pulls on the t-shirt Brett hands him obediently, followed by a pair of sweats far too big for him. 

"Lie down," Brett says. "Get some sleep. I'm gonna try to talk to Satomi when she gets back, see what she has to say." 

Liam lies down, drags one of Brett's pillows to his chest and wraps his arms around it. "What're you doing?" he mumbles.

"I'm gonna have a shower. Rest easy, yeah?"

"Mm."

Liam's out before he even leaves the room. 

Brett only spends five minutes under the spray, because he hears Satomi's footsteps and wants to catch her before someone else does. He hurries out with a towel around his waist and his hair dripping wet.

"Satomi," he says.

She turns from her spot at the kitchen counter, raising her eyebrows. "Brett?"

They touch foreheads in greeting; Satomi doesn't seem to mind getting wet. "What's bothering you?" she murmurs. "You seem distressed."

So Brett fills her in as best he can, rambling on and on and backtracking when he forgets. Satomi is patient with him, though, waiting until she's sure he's done to say, "and where is Liam now?"

"He's here." Brett gestures at his room. "He's right here. He's sleeping. He can't even stay awake. I'm not really sure what's wrong with him."

"Get dressed and I'll come look," he murmurs.

Brett rushes to get dressed, yanks jeans, a white t-shirt and some socks on, watching as Liam sleeps through the entire thing without even batting an eyelid. Never mind recovering to fight off an attacker; Liam doesn't even wake up when someone is in the room. He can't protect himself like this.

Satomi enters a few moments later, takes in Liam's appearance. Brett knows she's reading his scent, too.

"You've been to the hospital?" she asks.

"Scott's mom is a nurse. He's not healing, so I took him there."

She looks at him sharply. "Not healing?" She takes a step closer to Liam, presses her fingers against the pulse point in his arm. After a moment, she lets go.

"His pulse is fast," she says.

"It's been like that for a while," Brett says. "Since we found him." 

Satomi's hands ghost Liam's bare arm gently, the wound on his side, his forehead. "What did they do to him?" she asks softly.

"He had a cut in his side," Brett murmurs. "And this tube thing in his arm, he was being drugged with something. Why?"

Satomi stands up straight, pulls a blanket over Liam's body, and gestures to indicate she's leaving the room; Brett follows. "I didn't know where else to bring him," he admits. "He doesn't feel safe anywhere." 

"I'm glad you brought him," Satomi says. "And that he's resting."

"Why?"

"He is very sick," she says gently. "It's going to take a long time for him to recover."

"He doesn't remember what happened," Brett says. "He only remembers snippets of what happened after I arrived there to get him out." _He doesn't seem that sick_ , Brett thinks, watching Liam sleep. _Sure, he's not great, but he doesn't seem very sick._

"Nothing about what was done to him?" Satomi asks.

"No. Nothing."

Satomi inspects Liam again. "You said the Doctors drugged him," she says. "It could be that the drug they used had a memory blocking agent in it." 

"Could you tap into his memories?" Brett asks lowly.

Satomi watches him for a moment, then says, in a measured tone Brett already knows isn't good, "I could. It may not be a good idea right now, though, Brett. Whatever the Dread Doctors did to him has left him very weak." 

Brett turns to look at Liam, who's napping on his bed, his arm held close to his body. It's been hours since he's been rescued and he's still favouring it as if it never healed in the first place. "Will he get better?" he asks.

"Eventually, yes. But whatever it is they've done to him has delayed his healing. While there are no outward signs of trauma, it's likely that internally there are still injuries that are being repaired. The best thing for him is sleep."

Well, fuck. Brett's been dragging him all over town when Liam really should have been in bed. "Thanks, Satomi," he murmurs. 

"I'm making some tea," she murmurs to him. "Something that may help with the malaise. You should try to get him to eat something, Brett."

Brett shakes his head as he follows Satomi into the kitchen. "He's not hungry," Brett says helplessly. "I barely got him to eat a slice of toast this morning. He spent most of last night getting sick, he's worried it'll happen again."

Satomi nods. "The tea might settle his stomach if he's still ill," she says. "I have other things to attend to, but do try to get him to eat and drink."

They bade each other goodbye by touching their foreheads together, and Brett heads back to his room. Liam's in the same position as before, curled around a pillow.

Brett shakes his shoulder a bit. "Hey," he says softly.

Liam blinks his eyes open. "Yeah?" he croaks.

"Satomi made tea." Brett tries smiling, but he's worried that he can't get Liam to eat - Liam, who's usually a voracious eater and not picky in the slightest. "She said it might help settle your stomach if you're still feeling sick." 

Liam does look interested; he starts sitting up, slowly. "Okay," he yawns. 

He follows Brett out into the kitchen area, leans against the counter as Brett pours them both a cup of tea. "You want something to eat?" he asks. 

Liam shakes his head, cradles the mug of tea. He's standing upright and steady, but his eyes are soft with sleep, drowsy. It's a warm day out, but he hasn't taken off Brett's hoodie since last night, when he showered - other than the bare ten minutes it took for Mrs. McCall to look him over today.

"How's your side?" Brett asks.

Liam shrugs. "Kinda sore. It's alright. It's healing." 

"Can I see?"

Liam nods, sets his mug down and pulls his hoodie and shirt up. Brett leans in closer, putting a hand on Liam's hip as he does - no real reason, just to touch - and inspects the wound. It still looks sort of red, the stitches holding it together as it heals, but it should be done by the end of the day.

Liam's looking down too, trying to see it. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah. Looks lots better." Brett takes in Liam's appearance carefully; he's pale, bags under his eyes, looks exhausted. "You want anything to eat?" he asks hopefully. 

Liam nibbles on his lip, rubs the back of his head, looks around like he's looking for a way out of answering the question. "Um," he says. "I dunno." 

"Hey," Brett says. "You don't have to. Not right now, especially if you're still feeling sick." He steps forward, puts a hand on Liam's left hip, tries to catch his eye. Liam avoids his gaze. "Hey," Brett says again. "How're you doing? You okay?"

Liam finally meets his eyes, nods, and then shakes his head. "No," he murmurs. "I um - I feel pretty crappy." 

Brett knows that for Liam to actually admit to it, it has to be true; he winds his arm around Liam's shoulders and pulls him in closer. "Drink some more tea," he says softly. "See if it helps. We'll go back to your place and you can sleep it off."

Liam shifts against him, slowly, like it hurts. "Dunno if I can," he says tiredly.

"What do you mean?"

Liam doesn't answer, though, so Brett guides him into a chair and sits with Liam as he finishes off his tea, staring down into the amber liquid in his mug. He's drinking mechanically; Brett wonders if he even knows what he's doing, or whether he'll just go until he stops.

Liam leaves the mug with some of the liquid still in it; he shuts his eyes, rolls his shoulders back in what Brett knows by now is a sign of discomfort, and gives a sigh. There's a sheen of sweat on his face and neck.

Brett reaches out, puts his hand on Liam's neck, then his face. "You're burning up," he murmurs.

"What a shock," Liam mutters back.

"Alright." Brett stands up. "Think it's probably time we just both went home and went to sleep. Am I right?"

Liam looks up at him gratefully. "Yeah."

As they head back to Brett's car, Liam says, "you don't have to stay. It's not like I'm very interesting right now."

Brett frowns. "I'm not leaving you," he argues. "You're sick. I don't care if you're interesting or not. I mean arguably that's not even why I started all this in the first place. Besides, in sickness and in health and all that crap."

"I don't wanna be married to someone who is arguably not concerned with whether or not I'm interesting." Brett twists to look, but Liam's giving him a washed-out smile. "Kidding." 

It's only a ten minute drive to Liam's, which is good, because the moment they stop outside his house, Liam's opening the car door, leaning against the railing of the porch stairs and vomiting into the garden. 

Brett hurries forward to support him, but Liam doesn't seem to be on the brink of collapse, just sick. There's no hint of the odourless black stuff; then again, there's not much else there either, because Liam hasn't eaten.

"Sorry," Liam mumbles.

"For what?" Brett asks, unlocking the front door and hurrying Liam inside. "You didn't puke in my car or anything."

"You noticed? I was really trying." It's another one of those self-deprecating jokes Brett's come to expect from Liam. He's warm where Brett's touching him, and Brett realises, with dismay, that the fever has managed to really get a grip on Liam and is showing no signs of letting up anytime soon. 

He makes Liam drink a glass of water and brush his teeth before letting him collapse into bed, texts Mason to ask him to come over. He doesn't feel like being alone with all the silence of the Dunbar household, the way the place creaks with only two occupants, one of whom is passed out cold to the world. 

Mason shows up half an hour later, carrying an armful of books. "What're those?" Brett asks.

"Research." Mason dumps them in Brett's arms. "How's Liam?"

They begin heading upstairs. "He's sleeping," Brett says, opening the door. "But there's no way he's gonna wake up anytime soon." 

Mason sits down at the desk. "But he's okay?"

"He got sick before," Brett says, trying to keep his voice pitched low so Liam keeps sleeping. "When we got back."

Mason shrugs. "Doesn't surprise me," he says.

Brett blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Liam used to work so hard in lacrosse practice he'd puke," Mason says, "trying to keep up with everyone else because he was always the youngest. It happened a lot when he hadn't eaten. Maybe that's what it was."

Brett mulls it over in his head. "You think he's overexerting himself?"

"You said he nearly died, but he's been following you around all day and he barely slept last night. Maybe he's just really tired and needs to rest." 

Brett turns his head to look at Liam, who's resting easily with his back to them, head tucked down and almost totally under the covers. He tries to remind himself that Liam is okay for now, but it's hard when all he can see and smell and sense is that Liam isn't okay.

"I hope you're right," he mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were actually two versions of this chapter - the other was from liam's point of view. Maybe one day I'll actually clean it up and post it.  
> More fluff next chapter!


	11. Eleven - Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I'm back! Before anything else, funnyfreckles said I should get a tumblr and so I did - which some people seem to have already found, but it's at www.lol-briams.tumblr.com for those of you who didn't know! Thanks heaps for continuing to read, comment, and kudo! Support means everything ^_^

**Chapter Eleven - Interlude**

"No no no no - no, don't hurt her."

Brett wakes slowly to Liam's soft voice nearby, is so sleepy when he blinks that he swears his eyelids actually move at different times. He rolls over; Liam's near the edge of the bed, facing away from him.

"Hayden," Liam whimpers. "No-"

Brett sits up, strokes Liam's back. "Liam," he croaks sleepily. "Liam, hey. Come on."

He feels it when Liam wakes up, the alarmed twitch of his muscles realising someone's touching him. Brett's tired enough to barely notice when Liam flips over onto his back and slides upright, quickly, his heart pounding. 

"It was just a dream." Brett shuffles closer. "You're safe."

Liam swallows. He rolls out of bed, and Brett winces as the bathroom light flicks on and pierces his vision, not even adjusted to being awake yet. He stumbles after Liam, because he's not letting him past the despair event horizon tonight.

Liam's leaning against the bathroom sink, facing away from the mirror, his head ducked. Brett can hear how harsh his breathing is, knows Liam's trying to get it under control before it escalates into a full-blown panic attack. 

"Liam," he murmurs. He's about to step forward, but the sound of his voice makes Liam flinch, so he stays where he is, watches as Liam digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wants to soothe Liam, to hold him, but Liam's giving off every signal he could be to indicate that he wants to be left alone. 

"You're fine," he mumbles. "Hayden's fine. You know where you are?" It sounds dumb, but the first night, Liam woke up from a nightmare so disoriented he didn't even know where he was, and now, Brett wants to check, to make sure Liam doesn't think he's in an unfamiliar place. 

Liam nods briefly. He's still trying to control his breathing, but he drops his hands, looks up and around dazedly. His eyes are red.

Brett steps forward and slides in close, tucking his face against Liam's neck even though it kind of hurts his back and shutting his eyes. "Just a dream," he mumbles. 

Liam's pulse races against his mouth, and he's cold and clammy with nightmare sweat. He doesn't do anything other than put a hand on Brett's waist, letting Brett rest against him as he starts to try and breathe normally.

Brett listens attentively enough that he'll know if it's not working, but other than that, he kind of drifts off where he's standing. He's completely wiped out, doesn't know how Liam's getting by on the amount of sleep they've been getting.

"I'm sorry," Liam says. "I woke you up again."

"I don't care," Brett yawns. He means it, too, when he says it; he really doesn't care that Liam wakes him up with the nightmares. It's not like he can help it. 

"You should go back to sleep," Liam murmurs. 

"I will if you do." 

"Brett..."

Brett knows what Liam's not going to say - that the nightmares are keeping him up, half-conscious, unable to truly rest; that even though the wounds in his side and arm have healed, he's still experiencing phantom pain there like he's just as torn open as he was a few days ago when Brett carried him out.

"I couldn't help her." Liam sounds shaky. "They were cutting her open right in front of me and I couldn't do anything." 

"You tried to," Brett says.

"But I - I couldn't even get up. And I couldn't take her pain either." 

Brett straightens up. Liam's chewing his lower lip, his hair tousled, face and neck beaded with sweat that reeks of fear and anxiety. 

"Let's go back to bed," Brett says softly.

Liam shifts. He doesn't want to, Brett knows that much, but he also knows that Liam's got deep black bags under his eyes and that he's dropped almost five pounds in a week just from stress and that they've both got school tomorrow.

"Come on," Brett pleads. "Liam, we need to sleep. And I'm not going back to bed without you."

Liam eventually nods, turns to wash his face in the sink, and eventually follows Brett back to bed. 

They've got two hours before they have to get up for school.

~*~

Brett wakes up with Liam making a valiant effort to spoon him.

It's kind of nice, but also kind of funny, because even though Liam's legs and pelvis are aligned with Brett's, his feet are somewhere in the vicinity of Brett's shins and his face is pressed between Brett's shoulder blades.

Still, Liam's holding him so tightly around the waist that Brett's finally got an idea of what it might be like to be violently snuggled by a bear. 

Brett wriggles over onto his other side and tucks Liam's head beneath his chin, nosing his hair sleepily. Liam grumbles a little, but doesn't move away.

It's been three or four days since Liam and Hayden were rescued, and the weirdest thing for Brett is that the Doctors haven't pursued them. They've been left alone. Not only that, but Hayden seems to be improving by leaps and bounds; she's still scared, of course, but also excited that she can now see, smell and hear things she couldn't before.

Everyone in the pack, however, is in a different boat. Something has shifted about the dynamics of it; Stiles is either with Lydia or on his own, Malia seems to be spending more time with Theo - Theo, who's as disgustingly charming as he was before - and Scott has gone quiet. He told them, the day after, that Kira has left for New York again, because her fox spirit is out of control or something.

As for Liam, well. Liam seems better - he's not throwing up anymore and the fever broke the first night - but some things haven't improved. The weight loss is worrying to Brett, even though he knows logically it's just because Liam hasn't been eating well - he doesn't like the way the loss of five pounds really shows on Liam's frame, particularly around his chest and ribs. 

Then there's the nightmares and the fact that Liam still seems to be experiencing pain in his arm and side, even though the wounds are completely healed and the infection gone. Mrs. McCall thinks it might be trauma - that the pain is psychosomatic, and symptom of Liam's PTSD being exacerbated by recent events - but Brett's not so sure. At the end of the day, they have no idea what the Doctors did to Hayden or Liam. They just have to kind of hope that everything starts going their way.

He tries slipping away - he needs to pee - but Liam tightens his grip until Brett pries his fingers loose and manages to scramble away from him before Liam makes another desperate grab.

"Where're you going?" Liam whines, half-asleep.

"The bathroom. Wanna come with me?" Brett asks dryly. 

"Fuck you," Liam mumbles sleepily, burrowing back into his duvet.

Brett stands for a moment, watching him doze back off into sleep. The sun's coming up and it's banished the nightmares along with the darkness; Liam hasn't made a sound since he woke up during the night. 

Brett blinks himself out of his stupor, heads for the bathroom. School. Right. Because with the Dread Doctors hunting them, that's really their priority.

~*~

"Yo, Brett!"

Brett turns around, finding one of his teammates, Tom, standing nearby. "Yeah?" he asks.

"There's someone waiting outside for you," Tom snickers. 

Brett frowns. If it's that girl from his calculus class, he's just gonna have to tell her gently that he's taken. And if that doesn't work, he'll pull the boyfriend card.

Rather than showering, Brett stows his things and heads out of the locker room, figuring that if someone's waiting to talk to him he should probably hurry.

"Liam?" Brett asks incredulously.

Liam's standing outside the locker room, looking out of place in his jeans, Converse and navy blue t-shirt. He looks sheepish, embarrassed, as he turns towards Brett's voice. "Hi," he says awkwardly. 

"How did you get here?" Brett asks.

"I took the bus." Liam makes a desperate attempt to become part of the brick wall behind him as a group of Brett's lacrosse teammates exit the locker room. They all look at him, and a few smirk, but none of them say anything. Liam stopped reacting to them a long time ago, and that's when it stopped being fun for them.

Brett motions to the locker room. "I still have to get changed," he says. "If you wait I'll drive you home." 

Liam nods, but he looks anxious as Brett disappears. He showers quickly, not knowing how some of his teammates will react to Liam being outside. It's not as if he left Devonford on good terms, after all.

When he exits, Liam's sitting against the wall outside, playing Candy Crush on his phone. Brett taps his knee, making him jump; he's learned that Liam isn't constantly switched on and monitoring his surroundings the way Brett is, so it's easy to startle him.

"Everything okay?" Brett asks as he helps Liam to his feet.

Liam shrugs. "Yeah."

He's lying, but Brett knows Liam's more likely to cave in his own time if he just leaves it alone for now, so they begin down the hallway. Liam's looking at the ground, hands in his pockets, his school bag on his back and his gym bag slung over one shoulder, lacrosse stick poking out of the back. 

"You couldn't fit it all in one bag?" Brett teases.

Liam looks down at himself. "Oh. Um, bunch of textbooks."

"Should I be a good boyfriend and offer to carry something for you?" He's snickering before he even finishes his sentence; Liam makes a low growly noise in his throat and gives him a bit of a shove. There's a smile fighting for a place on his mouth, though, so Brett's not too worried.

"So. You came to find me. Why's that?"

"I can't just come to find you for no reason?"

"No, you can," Brett says. "But you're Liam and that's not what you do, so what's going on?"

Liam shrugs. "I dunno. It's just - we haven't heard anything in a while. About anything. The chimeras and all that. And Deaton's still gone, and Stiles and Scott-" Liam stops there, his eyes flickering up to Brett's face like he's said something wrong, then moves on. "And nothing's really - I dunno. It feels kind of weird."

Liam's been skittish around him since they got him out of the water filtration plant; actually, if Brett really stops to think about it, Liam's been skittish around everyone, particularly Theo and Scott. He's not entirely sure what's going on, but Liam did seemed freaked out about what he might've said to Brett in the car. 

Brett knows Liam's keeping a secret, because Liam really cannot lie for shit and the only reason he's not spilling everyone's secrets is through sheer stubbornness, because God knows he can't hide he knows something. He figures Liam will tell him if it's a problem anyway, even if he is curious now. 

"You know what I mean?" Liam asks nervously.

Brett shrugs. "Not really," he says, mystified. "I dunno if you noticed but you sort of skipped over everything."

Liam scratches the back of his head. "Oh. Right. Well I just - I dunno. I feel like - why've the Doctors left us alone this long?"

Brett sighs. Liam rambles on without explaining anything until Brett pushes him up against the wall and kisses him deeply, stemming the flow of awkward sentences and unfinished thoughts spewing from Liam's mouth. 

Liam seems to forget they're in the hallways of Devonford Prep and tilts his head back, into the kiss, sighing. His hand finds Brett's waist, squeezes hard. Liam's getting braver when it comes to touching, which is nice. Brett likes it when he winds his fingers into Brett's hair and tugs. Liam seems to have picked up on how much Brett likes that, because it's becoming a regular thing.

He pulls away with a few little nips at Liam's lips, smirking at Liam's flushed face and slightly dazed expression. "Okay," he says. "Try again."

Liam sighs slowly. "I'm having trouble staying in control," he admits. "Scott says it's because of the supermoon." 

Brett nods. He's felt it too - an itch beneath the skin he can't quite seem to scratch properly, surges of violence and aggression where he knows he would normally be calm. "How'd you go at school today?"

Liam shrugs, but his silence says it all. Brett stops him outside the car. "What's going on?" he asks.

Liam lifts his shoulders again, then drops them slowly. "Some guys saw us kissing this morning when you dropped me off," he says. "They decided they didn't like it."

Brett narrows his eyes. "So what happened?"

"Nothing." Liam's not looking at him, but he's not lying. "They made a few comments. But they didn't really do anything. I think they only left me alone because of Scott, though, because everyone really likes Scott and knows we're friends." 

"Does it bother you?" Brett asks softly. High-school bullies should be the least of their worries right now but Brett remembers how much he got picked on until he got too tall and intimidating for it to work, and people left him alone. Liam's not going to get tall and he rarely looks intimidating. "What'd they say?"

"It doesn't bother me that much." Liam toggles the air conditioning on Brett's car. "I mean it's just stupid high school stuff, right? They're just being assholes. They were the same to Mason. Same guys, even, who were saying it. And I guess they sorta remember when my I.E.D was really bad and all it took was them calling him a fag for me to snap, because they didn't do anything except call me names." 

"Like what?"

Liam's flicking through his phone; he seems less concerned than Brett thought he might be. "You know, the usual. Fag. Fairy. All that stuff." He rubs his head. "I'm more worried about Justin," he admits.

Brett's wolf growls in the back of his head, remembering the senior he threatened away from Liam. "Why?"

"He won't like it." Liam looks up at Brett, finally meeting his eyes. "He's still giving me some trouble," he admits finally. "It doesn't scare me anymore, but I'm worried he'll think that me being bi is an opening for him or something." 

There's a long silence. Finally, Brett says, "I guess I'll kill him, then."

"You're starting to sound like Stiles and Malia," Liam points out.

"Well, they can't be wrong all the time," Brett reasons.

Liam laughs. 

~*~

They go to the mall instead of back to Liam's, spend a while wandering around before Liam finally decides he's hungry. 

He's been eating better since that first day he was out of the water plant, but he's still not back to normal, picks at his food when he's barely finished half and seems more or less unconcerned with what he's actually eating. Brett's glad Liam's eating something - the only thing he had in the day and a half after he was rescued was toast - but he hopes that Liam starts eating a little more, and soon. 

Brett's sitting at their usual table when Liam comes back with a tray, one half piled with Indian food and the other half sporting a sandwich and fruit salad.  
"What's all this? A feast?"

"For you, maybe." Liam sets the tray down carefully, trying not to let it wobble. 

Brett nods at the sandwich. "Is that all you're having?"

Liam shrugs. "I'm not that hungry," he says. 

"You aren't hungry at all," Brett counters. "Are you?" 

Liam looks away from him, eyes travelling the food court slowly. He doesn't say anything, just shrugs again and picks up one half of the sandwich.

Right. Liam doesn't want to talk about it. Barring letting Brett check on his wound every now and then, Liam hasn't wanted to talk about anything that happened to him. He says he doesn't remember, but judging by the nightmares that are tormenting him every night since, he's lying, at least a little. _He might not remember everything_ , Brett thinks, _but he remembers enough that it terrorises him_. 

"How much do I owe you?" Brett asks, gesturing at the Indian.

"You don't," Liam says. "My shout." 

"I'm gonna keep you," Brett mumbles as he tucks in.

Liam smiles a little. "That's the plan." He's back to looking at Brett, his gaze steady and unselfconscious. When he looks at Brett like this, it reminds Brett that he's not always reserved and nervous, standoffish. Liam does let his guard down sometimes. It's not often, but that's fine by Brett. 

"See something you like?" Brett teases.

Liam lets his eye drop, uncharacteristically shy as he plays with the frayed string on his left wrist. There's a slight red tint around his ears. "I like how that shirt looks on you," he mumbles.

Brett looks down. It's only his Devonford shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone - he never wears it buttoned all the way up with the tie unless he absolutely has to, because he sucks at tying ties. 

"I like how that shirt looks on you," Brett says, motioning to the well-fitting, navy blue t-shirt Liam's wearing. "And how all your other shirts look on you. And off you."

"Stop," Liam mumbles, but he's fighting back a smile. 

Brett grins. He's been smiling more the past few days - after all, Liam is alive, and there don't seem to be any side effects from whatever the Doctors did to him while he was their prisoner. Even his arm, which he's been treating with an exceeding level of care, seems to be better, and he's not favouring it anymore.

Liam's physically fine. The nightmares are another story, but Brett knows how to deal with those already. 

He nods at Liam's smoothie. "What'd you get today?"

Liam's gotten into the strange habit of never ordering anything twice in a row from the smoothie joint, and today he's nursing something distinctly purple. He even has to look at the label to be able to tell Brett what it is. "Uh - blackberry, dragonfruit, raspberries, apple, strawberries. And yoghurt."

"What the hell is dragonfruit?" Brett demands. 

"It's like a - like a spiky plant thing." Brett gives Liam a moment to realise how unhelpful that description is, but he genuinely doesn't seem to pick up on it. 

Brett levels him with a flat look. "Thanks for clearing that up." He leans forward. "How's it taste?"

Liam points the straw in Brett's direction, letting him take a sip. Brett scrunches his nose up. "Too sweet," he complains. 

"Weak," Liam comments, taking it back. "We're practicing at your lacrosse field today," he says.

"Why?"

Liam shrugs. "They're still fixing ours. Guess we're practicing together." 

"Not using the soccer field?"

"Nah. The girls' soccer team needs it tonight." 

Brett shrugs. "Fair enough." He spoons up some curry and rice messily; there's no neat way to eat Indian food, as far as he knows. "You wanna hang out after this?" he asks.

Liam smiles, completely unreserved. "Yeah." 

"Okay. I've got homework, though," Brett warns. He's kind of been neglecting his homework what with Liam and everything else, so he really needs to hit the books, bad. "It's not gonna be a very interesting afternoon."

Liam shrugs, seeming unperturbed. "I don't mind," he says. He sounds completely honest; Brett thinks Liam would probably spend an limitless amount of time with him, regardless of what they were doing or where they were. "Besides," Liam says as he finishes another bite of his sandwich, "I need to study too." 

Brett doesn't like this whole studying thing. It's getting in the way of much more fun things he and Liam could do together. 

Liam puts his sandwich down, sits back; Brett tries not to make it obvious that he's observing how much Liam's eaten as he takes in the third of the sandwich that's left over and half of the fruit salad. At least Liam's trying to eat, even though he doesn't feel like it.

"What?" Liam asks softly.

"Nothing." Brett looks up at him; Liam looks kind of sheepish. "S'pose I can drive us both to lacrosse practice," he says, "if we're using the same field at the same time."

"Yeah, we are." Liam seems grateful that Brett changed the subject. "I'll check with Scott just to make sure." He's texting even as he says it. 

Less than a minute after sending the text, Liam's phone buzzes. He frowns when he reads it.

"What?" Brett asks.

"I think Stiles has Scott's phone," Liam mumbles.

"Why?"

Liam hands the phone to him.

 **To** : Scott McCall, 3:24PM  
Practice @7 w/Devonford?

"Where the hell did you learn to text like that?" Brett demands.

"Malia," Liam says. "She's not that into texting."

 **From** : Scott McCall, 3:24PM  
Oooh. Someone's excited to spend time with his boyfriend. Just have the decency to wait until the locker room's empty to really enjoy yourself ;)

"That's definitely not Scott," Brett laughs, handing the phone back to Liam. "So do they still want to threaten me?" 

Liam shrugs. "Scott wouldn't threaten you," he says. "But he also probably won't stop Stiles from doing it for him." 

"Right," Brett says. "Because Stiles is such a terrifyingly threatening creature."

~*~

They've been studying for about forty five minutes when Brett, finally coming out of the boredom-induced haze of sleepiness that's settled over him, sniffs the air and realises that Liam's quietly fizzing with anger next to him. 

"What's up?" Brett asks.

Liam throws his pen down with genuine anger, surprising Brett. "I hate all this shit," he spits.

"All what shit?" This is the second time today he's left Brett absolutely bewildered and confused. He leans over Liam's shoulder.

Biology. Liam is throwing a tantrum about biology homework. That really shouldn't surprise Brett, but somehow it does; he can't help but chuckle as he moves closer. "What don't you understand?" he asks gently.

"All of it," Liam barks, frustrated. "Literally none of it makes sense. It may as well be a different language."

"It is. It's the language of life," Brett says.

"That doesn't help." 

Liam's getting genuinely pissed off now, so Brett runs a hand down his back, then back up, before sliding his fingers into Liam's hair and scratching his scalp lightly. Liam melts, somewhat unwillingly, under his touch. 

"I have to do biology next," Brett says. "Let me help you?"

"Okay," Liam mumbles. "You never need help with anything."

"I'm pretty bad at English," Brett says. 

Liam's starting to turn red. "I could help with English," he says softly. "I'm in the AP class."

Brett smiles. "Really?"

Liam nods, seemingly too shy to speak. Liam downplays all his good traits, though, so Brett can't honestly say he's surprised. 

He goes back to his calculus until he feels Liam's fingertips skim his arm lightly. He doesn't look, because if he does he's probably gonna scare Liam off - he's easily spooked, even now, when Brett catches him staring or touching - and he's enjoying it. 

Liam shuffles over to him, rolls onto his back, and reaches up to stroke Brett's throat curiously. Brett lets him - something about the action is erotic, has blood flowing to all the best places, especially considering Liam's on his back and baring his stomach and Brett's wolf is pretty into the idea of Liam submitting. 

He finally chances looking down, sees Liam looking up at him with an open, disarmed expression. His hand twitches away when he catches Brett looking.

"Don't stop," Brett rushes out.

Liam swallows and nods, continues his exploration of Brett's throat. "I like it when you touch me," Brett says softly. "You can do it whenever you want." He works himself up to ask the next question. "You're hesitant a lot," he says. "Like you're worried about touching me. Why?"

Liam's fingers skim his collarbones, right up to where they become the rounded muscle of his shoulders. For a few moments, Brett thinks he's overstepped the line, that Liam's not going to answer, until he licks his lips.

"When I had my I.E.D," he mumbles, "you know, really bad, and I had outbursts every day, sometimes twice a day - people were scared of me. So I just tried to stay out of everyone's way. Even after I was on Risperdal, people remembered how violent I got."

Brett takes a moment to put the pieces together. "You didn't want to scare anyone, so you just... avoided making friends?" he asks.

"Yeah. Mason was the only one who stuck around. He wasn't afraid of me." 

Liam might have I.E.D, but Brett's seen his outbursts and knows that even if they're directed at people, caused by people, he never takes it out on people anymore; that's why he digs his claws into his palms, keys up cars. It makes Brett sad to know that despite everyone's best efforts, Liam really didn't develop any better coping methods than that. He wonders if that's got anything to do with the way Liam's dad used to beat him. That Liam's somehow got it in his head that it's better to hurt himself than anyone else.

And besides, Brett would know better than anyone that Liam's a surprisingly gentle person. And he knows that Liam's admission was probably one of the hardest things he's had to say in a while, because even now, there are parts of Liam that he keeps closed off from everyone around him, as if they're toxic and poisonous to others.

He leans his head down, sighs when his skin makes contact with the exposed sliver of Liam's stomach, and gives him a soft, gentle kiss. Liam tilts his head up into it, doesn't make an effort to deepen it, like he knows Brett is trying to tell him something. 

"Look at me?" Brett asks. He waits until Liam finally meets his eyes to say, "I'm not scared of you. I like it when you touch me; I'll _tell_ you if something hurts, okay? Don't hold back because you're worried about that."

Liam doesn't answer, but he does continue to map out Brett's skin, tracing the line of his jaw, the slant of his throat, skims every vein and artery on his way to Brett's collarbones. Brett has no idea if Liam got this idea somewhere or whether it's all him, but he definitely didn't pick it up from Brett. It's not like he cares anyway; Liam is still learning how to touch and when, and Brett's more than happy to be his test subject. It makes it hard to study, though, when Liam's shirt has ridden up and there's a sliver of his belly on display. Brett can barely keep his eyes off the area. 

In the back of his head, his wolf gives a growl. It wants to touch, to claim, but Brett sort of just wants to look at the moment, because for once Liam's defences are down and he's not paying attention to how Brett's looking at him and it's the most candid he's ever been around Brett.

He's been making a valiant attempt to keep studying, but even as he flips the page in his textbook, Liam leans up and delivers a soft, shy lick to his neck, right over his jugular. Brett swallows; Liam clearly wants his attention.

He puts his pen down and looks down at Liam, who smiles up at him. "Okay," Brett says. "Okay, I'm done studying." 

Liam widens his eyes. "Did I interrupt you?" he asks innocently.

"You little shit," Brett says fondly. He goes to stroke Liam's hair, but something about his neck is begging to be touched, and Liam's given him a thousand ideas. "Hold still," he murmurs. 

"Okay." 

Brett's never realised before, but his hand is big enough to encircle Liam's windpipe and half his neck easily. He lays it there gently, uses his thumb to stroke Liam's Adam's apple. He has a hunch, and he wants to test it, but he needs to make sure it's okay first.

"Tell me to stop and I will," Brett says. "Straight away. I mean it."

Liam nods.

Brett uses his free hand to gather Liam's wrists above his head and pin them there, then presses lightly on Liam's throat. He's expecting that Liam might flinch a bit at first, but he doesn't even resist Brett's grip on his wrists; instead, all he does it tilt his head back, granting more access.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Brett murmurs. 

Liam nods, pushes his hips up a bit. Brett puts a thigh between Liam's, bears down until Liam's got friction on his dick, then says, "don't move." 

He wants to see if Liam can do it; if he can do as Brett tells him even if he's out of his mind with want. Liam swallows, nods, holds still. The only thing that gives him away is the slight trembling. Brett's used to that; Liam always trembles when he's aroused. 

Brett squeezes his hands around Liam's wrist. "How hard?" he asks softly.

Liam's eyes flicker down to Brett's groin, then back up, not quite meeting his eyes. "As hard as you want," he says softly. "It's all good for me." 

"I mean your throat. I don't want to hurt you."

"This is good. What you're doing now." 

Brett digs his fingernails in a little bit; Liam's mouth opens partway, his teeth glistening. "You really trust me, huh?" Brett asks softly.

Liam finally meets his eyes. They're steady, calm. It's not often Brett gets to see him like this. "Yeah," Liam says. "I do." 

Brett leans down and kisses him deeply, using his tongue to sweep inside Liam's mouth, kissing him and working him with his tongue until Liam's panting underneath him. The whole time, he feels every minute shift in Liam's throat, every throb his jugular makes, the bob of his throat whenever he swallows. When he pulls away, Liam tries to follow him up, his eyes smoky and dark with want. 

Brett presses down a little on Liam's neck. "No," he says, lightly, testing the waters. He doesn't know if this is out of bounds; if Liam likes being held down but maybe not ordered around.

Liam lies back meekly, turns his head a little so Brett can thumb the soft, vulnerable spot where his jaw and neck meet his ear. "Sorry," he says timidly.

Brett hesitates. He's trying to get a read on Liam's emotional state - he's aroused, he's hard, he's not afraid but he's also not genuinely guilty for moving. It takes him a moment, with Liam staring up at him submissively, to realise that Liam's playing. So well, in fact, that Brett had no idea. 

Being held down is fun for Liam. He knew that. Apparently, so is submitting. 

Brett strokes the area his thumb is resting on. Liam's got the beginnings of peachlike fuzz on his cheeks and face. "Would you let anyone else do this?" he asks quietly.

Liam shakes his head; Brett presses, a silent warning. "No," Liam says. "Only you." He might be playing along, but the vulnerability in his voice gives away the truth in the statement. He really wouldn't let anyone else do it. It's then that Brett realises he's all Liam's known - sexually and intimately. He has no other experience.

He leans down to nose at Liam's throat. His scent has gone back to normal, and Brett's craving close contact, the near-addictive sense of calm that comes from scenting Liam and listening to his pulse trot along in his neck.

He just wants to be close. Wants to be intimate, and not necessarily in a sexual way. He's never taken anyone apart the way he has Liam, and no one has ever been this close to knowing him inside and out before. He doesn't think Liam knows that. Brett's not sure he's ready for him to.

"Do you enjoy this?" Brett asks curiously.

Liam nods eagerly, moving Brett's hand a little, and seeming disappointed when Brett doesn't press him down again. "Yeah," he says.

Brett thinks about it for a moment. He never held Liam down before, only stumbled across the kink by accident when he pinned Liam to stop him squirming and realised he liked it. Liam didn't pick this up from him. Porn, maybe? But Brett can't imagine Liam watches a lot of it. 

"Is that weird?" Liam asks hesitantly. 

Brett shakes his head. "No. Plenty of people like it," he says. 

"Do you?"

"I like holding you down," Brett admits. "I'm not sure how I'd feel about being pinned." 

Liam shrugs. "I'm not gonna pin you," he says. "Unless you want me to." 

Brett kisses him. "Do you want to move?" he asks gently.

"Yes," Liam answers honestly.

Brett lets him go instantly. Liam lies where he is, making no moves to shy away from him - he reaches out to touch Brett's skin, to kiss up along his throat. He rocks a little against Brett's thighs between his, but not much, and not with any intent. 

Brett nudges his legs apart more, pleased when Liam lets them fall open without protest, and crawls in between them until he's lying flat, his arms on either side of Liam's head. Liam watches him, his breathing a little strained with Brett's weight on his stomach and chest.

"Hi," he says eventually. 

Brett laughs. "Hey." 

Liam wriggles a little. "Are we done studying?" he asks hopefully.

"I dunno. I was enjoying calculus." 

Liam scowls at him. "Come on," he whines.

"Come on what?" Brett can't help but smirk, buries the expression in Liam's neck. 

"Let's just ditch the studying," Liam whines. 

"Liam, we need to graduate."

Liam huffs, but pushes at his shoulders. "Okay," he grumbles. "Alright, fine." Brett rolls off him, lets Liam up. "But just so you know, your calculus can't give you head," Liam says, "and I can."

"Is that an offer?"

"Would an offer make you ditch calculus?"

"Probably."

"Then yeah, it's an offer." 

Brett laughs. "I might take you up on it later," he says teasingly. "But for now, we really do need to try and graduate."

"Boring," Liam mutters.

Brett watches him scribble angrily for a while, trying not to let his amusement show. He hasn't worked out if this is I.E.D anger or usual Liam-angst anger yet, so he'll keep the hilarity of it on the down-low. 

"Hey," Brett says, sitting up.

Liam turns to look at him. "Yeah?"

Brett pulls at Liam's clothes until he gets the point and swings himself into Brett's lap, sitting down and leaning in close. Brett traces his full lower lip with his thumb, watching as Liam shuts his eyes and opens his mouth slightly. When Liam's primary fangs grow in, Brett presses his thumb into the point of each one, just softly enough that it doesn't draw blood.

"I know you go to school with Theo," Brett says quietly, "but if something happens... and you have time to get to me, find me first, okay? I don't trust Theo. Find me first." 

Liam nods. "Okay," he says. 

"Just okay?"

Liam shrugs. "I don't really like Theo much," he murmurs, distracted and leaning insistently into Brett's touch. "I don't know, it's just... there's something off. I don't trust him. Everything started going wrong when he showed up." 

Brett nods, pulls Liam in. Not to kiss him - just to hold him for a moment, to feel him warm and relaxed against his torso, to listen to his heart beat quietly and steadily. He clutches the back of Liam's shirt, scenting him at his neck. 

He wants to tell Liam he loves him, but it's too soon and he doesn't know if he actually loves the kid or whether he's just drowning in the sense of impending death that's looming over his head. He only just got Liam back a few days ago, banged up and bruised and suffering, and he's not sure if what he's feeling is love, exactly, or more of a "thank God you're alive" emotion. 

He leans back, tugs at Liam's shirt until he raises his arms and lets Brett pull it off him. The moment Brett raises his hands to tweak Liam's nipples, they go hard. Liam blushes.

"Don't be embarrassed," Brett says, surprised. "I like it." 

"I don't," Liam mumbles. 

"Why not? They're sensitive. It's great. For me, at least."

"They show through my shirt when it's cold," Liam whines. "It sucks." 

Brett smiles. "It would. But right now it's not a problem." He likes the way Liam sits in his lap and just lets him play and stroke and press. He leans forward, sucks Liam's left nipple into his mouth and tongues at it slowly, thoroughly.

Liam tilts his head up to give him more room, sighs. "Love it when you do that," he murmurs, his voice a little raspy. "It feels really good."

Brett moves over to the other one, saying, "I'm a slut for positive feedback," right before he goes back to what he was doing. Liam gives a low chuckle. 

Brett braces Liam's chest to stop him from squirming, tongues teasingly at his nipple until Liam's canting his hips up, leaning his chin on the top of Brett's head and moaning out a short, "Please." Once Brett's got him there, he topples Liam over onto the mattress and slides up between his legs, goes back to what he was doing.

Liam tries to push his hips up, but Brett pins them to the bed; he can feel Liam's dick stiffening up in his sweats, practically begging for attention.

Liam squirms again; again, Brett pins him down, harder this time, eliciting a whine. He trails down Liam's chest and torso until he reaches his hips, nibbles at the taut skin over the bone there. He starts sliding Liam's sweats and boxers down.

"This okay?" he asks, mostly just to tease because he knows it is.

"Yeah." Liam's voice is up a few octaves. "Yeah, keep going."

"You didn't even say please." But Brett keeps pulling until Liam's dick is freed from his boxers, wraps a hand around it and gives it a few slow strokes. Liam rises up on his elbows, stares down at him with eyes dark with lust and desire.

"How come I'm naked and you're not?" he asks breathlessly.

"You aren't naked. You're wearing socks. Good look, by the way." 

"Fuck y-" Whatever Liam was going to say is bitten off when Brett closes his mouth around the head of his penis. He flops back onto the bed, and Brett can't resist a bit of a smirk; he knows exactly how to touch Liam if he wants a reaction.

He might've made Liam tell him how much he loves Brett being between his legs, but Brett's pretty happy down here too, with Liam's thighs trembling a scant few inches away from his ears and his hips in Brett's hands, gripped hard to stop him from moving. Playing with Liam's nipples must have got him more worked up than Brett realised, because Liam's dick is dribbling precome at a pretty impressive rate, throbbing on his tongue. 

Liam's fingers tangle into his hair and pull slightly. "Oh, shit," Liam moans quietly. "Brett-"

Brett tongues the slit at the top, tastes the salty tang of the precome there, pays special attention to the way Liam renews his struggles to free his hips, savours the way he shakes and trembles underneath him. 

He wants to hear Liam say his name again, works up the speed of what he's doing. Liam's gasping above him, and Brett imagines it: Liam, head tilted back to the ceiling, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, muscles tense. 

Liam's breaths begin to become harsher, closer together; he's gripping Brett's hair pretty hard now, and Brett knows he's close, uses one hand to thumb lightly at Liam's perineum. 

"Brett," Liam moans. "Brett, I'm gonna come." 

Brett makes some vague "mmhm" noise, just so Liam can feel the vibrations of his throat. He feels Liam's hips strain up, and then he's rocking back again, gasping as he spills onto Brett's tongue and into his mouth. 

Brett swallows every drop, milks Liam dry until he's sure he's done, then pulls off, releases the iron grip he has on his hips. There are dark bruises there. He's sort of proud.

He sidles up alongside Liam, who's panting, catching his breath. "Good?" he asks smoothly.

"Yeah," Liam pants. "Wasn't expecting that."

"Hmm." Brett tucks his nose into Liam's pulse point. "That was the idea." 

"I thought I was meant to give you head," Liam says weakly.

"I'm right here. You still can," Brett teases.

He's not expecting Liam to roll on top of him. "Well, if you insist," Brett murmurs as Liam begins playing with the button on his jeans.

"I do." Liam wriggles his way down Brett's torso, his skin a hot brand where it touches Brett's, his fingers skimming along as lightly as birds across the surface of a river. Soon enough, he's right where Brett wants him, breathing over Brett's jeans.

Brett wants Liam's mouth right now, but this is only the second time Liam's given him a blowjob - or, second time giving a blowjob ever, depending on how you want to look at it - so he's not going to rush him. 

Liam unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulls them down a little, and nuzzles at Brett's dick through his boxers. His hair brushes Brett's inner thigh, soft and silky, makes him shiver with anticipation.

Liam looks up at him apprehensively. "I still don't know what I'm doing," he mumbles.

"You did great last time," Brett reassures him. "And you'll get better with practice."

"How much practice will I need before I'm as good as you?"

Brett shrugs. "I dunno," he says. "But I'm happy to be your test subject."

"How kind of you," Liam says dryly. He pulls Brett's boxers down a little, enough to get his dick out, shuffles up a little to try and get comfortable. Brett watches, mesmerised, as Liam licks his lips to wet them, then tongues a slow stripe from the base of his dick to the tip.

Brett bites the inside of his cheek. He's not sure if it's the physical pleasure or the pleasure he takes on seeing Liam like this that really gets him going. He supposes it doesn't really matter; he's still gonna get off, either way.

He grips Liam's hair as Liam swallows him down, groans as he's enveloped in the wet, warm heat of Liam's mouth. He doesn't think to stop himself before thrusting up, hears Liam gag and choke, pulls back instantly.

"Sorry," he says quickly.

Liam gives his thigh a retaliatory pinch, but when he looks up at Brett through his eyelashes, he doesn't seem too put off. Brett finds his breath caught when Liam's throat convulses around him, trapped in the blue of Liam's eyes against the backdrop of his skin.

"Liam, shit," he mumbles. "I'm not gonna last long if you-"

Liam hollows out his cheeks and starts moving his head and neck slowly, picking up speed once he's worked out the movement on this angle.

"-keep doing that," Brett finishes weakly, embarrassed to find his voice has risen up and sounds distinctly whimpery. He swears he sees Liam grin smugly, even with his mouth preoccupied. 

"Fuck, Liam," he moans. "Where did you learn-"

Liam pinches his thigh again; Brett thinks that's probably Liam telling him to shut up and enjoy himself, so he does, relaxes back against the bed and pulls on Liam's hair. There's heat pooling rapidly in his pelvis, tingles shooting up and down his spine, and he knows, without a doubt, that he's close. 

Liam's tongue finds the head of his dick, swirls around it before he presses at the beads of precome he can feel squeezing out of him. For a moment, Brett thinks it's a cursory lick, until Liam presses a little harder and deeper, focuses on that spot.

"Liam," he pants, yanking Liam's hair a little harder than necessary - he'll apologise later. "Liam, I-" He's trying to warn Liam that he's about this close to blowing his load right then and there, but Liam backs off at the last minute, leaving him infuriatingly close to the edge and about ready to explode. 

He pushes his hips up again, seeking something a little deeper, but he's careful this time, and the effort pays off when Liam lets him, doesn't choke, and moves forward to accommodate him. He groans when he hits the back of Liam's throat.

"You don't need practice," Brett pants. 

Liam looks up at him again, briefly, then starts picking up speed again. Brett can tell he means business this time. 

He feels Liam's tongue press hard against the underside of his dick, where a vein is throbbing and pulsing desperately, and manages to get out, "Liam, I'm gonna-" before his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave and he's shooting into Liam's mouth and throat, gasping as spots dance in his vision and clenching his fists in Liam's hair.

Liam swallows it all, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and crawls up Brett's body, settles down against him.

"Where the hell did you learn all that?" Brett asks weakly. "I've never done that."

Liam blushes against him. "Google," he rasps, his voice hoarse and wrecked. "I um, I did some research." 

Brett lets out a breathless laugh. "You dork," he says affectionately. "You're the best." 

Liam smiles. "You know Scott is going to be able to tell, right?"

"I don't give a fuck," Brett says. "That was awesome." 

Liam gets off him, pulls his boxers on, and walks to the bathroom. "See," he calls. "Calculus isn't nearly as fun as I am." 

~*~

They go to training together, but Liam is beckoned over by his teammates almost as soon as they arrive; Brett suffers through his coach spouting teamwork rhetoric and how to play nice with the BHHS team before they're allowed into the locker room.

Brett sets his bag down on a free patch of bench; most of Beacon Hills is already changed or halfway through the process. Turning slightly, he can see that Liam's standing with Stiles and Scott, only just pulling his t-shirt off over his head. He must sense Brett watching, because he turns, allowing Brett to admire his profile - the broad set of his shoulders, the tapered waist, slightly smaller than his. Liam's not done filling out yet.

Liam blushes when he sees Brett watching, and Brett smirks, winking. That causes Liam to blush deeper and turn away.

"Liam, you okay?" Scott asks, concerned.

"I - yeah." Liam sounds flustered.

Stiles snorts. "It's because Gigantor's watching him." 

Scott turns to look at Brett. "You mean Brett?"

"No, I mean Greenberg. Of course I mean Brett." Stiles is shoving things haphazardly into his locker while Liam, still red all over his chest, neck and face, shuffles out of his shoes and jeans. "Anyone with two eyes can clearly see that Brett is staking out the competition."

"Competition?" Scott asks. "Liam, are any of the other guys in here bothering you? I can talk to them. And maybe Brett can talk to the Devonford players, get them to leave you alone-"

"No one's bothering me," Liam says, and there's definitely an element in his voice that is pleading with them both to drop it. "I'm fine-"

"Is it Justin again?" Stiles demands. "I meant what I said about that phone call. My dad takes HTH pretty seriously." 

"Justin hasn't bothered me," Liam moans. He's pulling on a baggy black t-shirt to wear under his gear. " _No one_ is bothering me. I'm _fine_."

Scott puts a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Has anyone given you trouble in the hallways?" he asks seriously.

"You do know Brett can hear every word you're saying?" Liam chokes. "Right? You haven't forgotten that he's a werewolf or anything?"

Stiles and Scott both turn to look at Brett. He smiles at them innocently.

Stiles narrows his eyes in return, but Brett knows how relieved he is to have Liam back and whole. He heads over there, clapping Liam on the back and making him jump. 

"You're skittish today," Scott comments.

"Skittish?" Stiles demands. "What the hell is that? Did you swallow a dictionary?"

"He's always skittish," Brett says, but he's rubbing at the back of Liam's neck to soften the joke as he does. "He's Liam. Haven't you noticed?"

Liam lifts his eyes to scrape Brett's briefly, apparently happy for the intervention. He's still blushing, but he's tilting his head forward a little so Brett can reach more of his neck. Stiles and Scott are so absorbed in whatever conversation they're having they're not even paying attention anymore.

"Devonford shouldn't hassle you too much," Brett says. "I know we gave you a lot of shit at the scrimmage last time. I told them to lay off."

Liam smiles. "I'm not nervous," he says.

"No?" Brett adjusts some of Liam's straps.

"No. It's just training." Liam shrugs. "Besides, both our coaches are there." 

"Yeah," Brett murmurs. He's picking up the scent of arousal somewhere nearby, and he's distracted by it, turning his head to look. It doesn't take him long before he sees Justin, watching Liam as he strips down.

Brett barely suppresses a growl. He doesn't like it when other people look at Liam, that's a given, but his wolf hates it, can't stand the idea of sharing or of someone else deciding they're gonna make a move. Scent marking Liam only stakes his claim around other supernatural creatures. It doesn't work on humans.

Liam notices where he's looking. "Don't worry," he says softly. "It's fine." 

"He's nineteen," Brett says, voice dripping with disgust. "Seriously. What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Brett," Liam pleads. "Come on."

"Why?" Brett demands.

"I don't..." Liam bends over to lace up his shoes; Brett sits next to him, tying his own. "Look, I don't want Scott and Stiles to know he's still bugging me," Liam says. "They've got enough to worry about." 

"It's Scott's job to worry about you," Brett replies, frustrated. "You're his beta. You got kidnapped less than a week ago. What's he doing if he's not worrying about you?" 

Liam gives him a sharp glare. "Worrying about everyone else, I guess. That's his thing." 

Brett closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "Sorry," he says. "That was uncalled for." 

"It's fine." But Liam's voice is as tight as a rubber band ready to snap, and he smells annoyed. "I get it. You're just not the first one to tell me." 

Brett frowns. "Who else would have?"

But Liam's clammed up again. Brett feels a pang of frustration; he knows Liam's hiding something. He just can't figure out what it is, or why Liam feels like he needs to hide it from him.

"BOYS!"

It's Liam's loudmouth coach, Finstock; Brett wrinkles his nose. God, he hates that guy. Liam gives him a small smile and stands up as their coach bellows at them to hustle onto the field. 

Brett sighs. He really likes Liam, he does. But after all this time, Liam is almost as closed off as he was at the start. He accepts help less reluctantly now, but he still doesn't trust, well, anyone, at all. 

Brett wonders, as he gets up and grabs his stick, if Liam was always going to be like this, or whether his father had something to do with it. He guesses the latter, though he doesn't know enough to really measure what the difference might've been.

He's not paying attention to anything until he finds that Devonford's coach and Coach Finstock have decided that they'll run drills together and that they're being ordered to square off against the opposing team to practice one-on-one defence. 

He notices that they're being paired off according to numbers, and his wolf gives a low snarl when Justin stops in front of him, smirking. Liam, right beside Justin, looks at Brett nervously.

Brett gives him an innocent smile. He's not going to hurt Justin too badly. Just enough to make him rethink giving Liam any trouble.

The whistle blows; Brett's the first off his mark, and maybe he doesn't put wolf strength into it when he checks Justin, but he certainly doesn't try to restrain himself, either; Justin, who's about his height but bulkier, sprawls backwards onto the ground, hitting so hard the wind is crushed out of him and he groans.

"Talbot!"

He turns to see his coach eyeing him disapprovingly. "Play nice," he sighs.

"I did," Brett says innocently. He bends down to help Justin up, lets his lip curl when he does, and hopes that puts him in his place for good.

They rotate partners; Brett finds himself worried as he squares off against Liam, who doesn't look concerned in the slightest. Last time they did this, Brett would've been happy to knock Liam on his ass, would've been actively looking for a reason to do it, but he balks at the chance now.

His wolf is whimpering quietly in the back of his head at the prospect of hurting Liam, even if Liam heals, even if it's just momentary. He wonders if Liam's having the same trouble, but remembers that Liam's wolf seems to lie dormant until he gets angry and decides no - Brett, born a werewolf, has trouble separating his wolf instincts from his human ones. For him, they're all one in the same. He's never known any different. 

And Liam's smaller than him. Brett knows that his panicking will get him exactly nowhere, but Liam really is much smaller than him, even if he is solid with muscle and well conditioned. Brett's got almost a whole foot in height on him. He's worried about hurting Liam. It hasn't been that long since he carried Liam out of the Doctors' lair - a few days, no more.

The whistle blows, and he's jolted into action. Liam's already running at him, holding nothing back, so Brett decides to do the same, turns his body at the last minute so his shoulder catches Liam's chest, sending him sprawling backwards. 

Liam hits the ground hard, and Brett hears the sound of the air leaving his lungs, feels instantly guilty. Around them, players are helping each other to their feet; Brett leans down to help Liam, who's gasping and winded.

"Sorry," he says guiltily. 

"It's okay," Liam gasps. "Just winded."

But as Brett looks at him, he notices a trickle of blood sliding down Liam's upper lip. "Li," he says, voice low. "You're bleeding."

Liam pulls his helmet off - _Jesus, Talbot, how hard did you run into him that it hurt him through his helmet?_ \- and yanks his gloves off, touching his nose. "Crap," he mutters, tilting his head forward. Blood starts dripping on the grass.

"Damn, Liam." Brett tilts Liam's head slightly. "How hard did I hit you?" he asks guiltily.

Liam blinks. "Not that hard," he says thickly. "It didn't hurt." 

Scott and Stiles are jogging over to them. "What'd you do to him?" Stiles demands. "Are you brutalising him still? I thought that you'd have other ways to expend all your freakish werewolf energy by now."

"Stiles," Liam moans. 

"What?"

Scott peers at Liam's nose. "Doesn't look broken," he says. 

"MCCALL! STILINSKI!"

They both turn to see Coach Finstock gesticulating angrily at them. "Is he bleeding to death?" he bellows.

"No, Coach," Scott says sheepishly.

"Then get back over here! Dunbar, clean yourself up and get back in there!" 

"Yes, Coach," Liam says, pulling his gloves off. 

"You!" Brett looks around to see Coach Finstock pointing at him. "Yeah, you! The one with the freakishly long legs! Go with him!" 

Brett shrugs. He doesn't have a problem going with Liam to clean his nose up. It gives him a chance to make sure everything's fine, set his nose in private if it is broken. He follows Liam, leaving his own gloves and helmet behind.

He picks up a gauze pad from the first aid kit on the bleachers. "Why is this out already?" he asks Liam.

Liam motions at the field with his free hand, which is covered in blood. "Greenberg," he says. "He's sort of useless but somehow he makes the team every year. Coach hates him."

"Coaches aren't allowed to hate players," Brett says, pulling Liam closer and putting the gauze against his nose. "Then again," he murmurs as he watches Finstock yell obscenities at the boys doing laps, "I think your coach is a little different."

Liam snorts and then coughs. He's taken the gauze pad from Brett's hand and is watching the play wistfully. "I can't believe you enjoy practice," Brett mutters. "I mean you even like suicide runs. No one likes suicide runs."

"They make me faster."

"They make people want to die, Liam." He turns back to him, put off by the sight of Coach Finstock's face turning red and veiny with the force he's using to blow on his whistle. "Has it stopped?"

Liam pulls the pad away a little. "I think so."

"TALBOT!" 

Brett turns. Coach Finstock is heading straight for them.

"Save me," he says sarcastically to Liam.

"You knocked me down. You're on your own." But Liam jogs forward to intercept anyway. "I'm fine, Coach," he says. "It's stopped bleeding." 

Coach Finstock eyes Liam distastefully. "Dunbar, you look like you ate a raw carcass for lunch," he says, and Brett can't help but smirk when Liam's heartbeat jumps up a bit. "Talbot! Did you break my star player?"

"No," Brett says innocently.

"You listen here." Coach Finstock pokes his chest, an arm around Liam's shoulders. "This boy is like a son to me," he says. "A very valuable son. If you broke him, I'll break you." 

Brett smirks at Liam, who's blushing furiously. "I'd never do something like that, Coach," he says. "Honest. Who'd wanna hurt sweet little Liam?"

Coach narrows his eyes. "I remember you, Talbot," he says. "You knocked him down four times in one game last summer. I know you've got history." 

"We're over that," Liam says nervously, and Brett can't fight back a grin because that's the biggest understatement of the year.

"Don't defend him, Dunbar. Talbot, stop playing games with me. Both of you, get back out there. Liam, you know what to do if it starts to hurt again."

"... Keep playing?"

"Thatta boy." Coach Finstock claps Liam's back and heads back to the pitch, tracking down the unfortunate kid that must be Greenberg to scream at. Liam rounds on Brett.

"I'm not little _or_ sweet," he spits.

Brett laughs. "I was just messing with your coach. What a hardass." 

Liam shakes his head, picks up his helmet and gloves. "Whatever." 

"Liam." He catches Liam's arm. Liam turns back to him questioningly.

"You okay?" he asks. He wants to kiss him, even with the blood all over his face, but neither of them is particularly into PDA.

Liam smiles. "Yeah." 

He doesn't seem to be lying, because once they're out there running drills again, Liam's still one of the best players on his team. Brett knew that already, but there's something pretty hot about watching Liam literally run laps around even Scott, who seems to be trying to stay with Stiles. 

"It's indecent," Stiles pants as he jogs gracelessly around the track. "The way he just runs like it doesn't take any effort. I mean, what even is that? He's what, five foot on a good day? You should be able to outrun him!"

"Me?" Scott retorts indignantly. "What about you?"

"I'm a pathetically unfit human being," Stiles gasps. "This isn't about me." 

Brett runs past them, deciding to make it interesting between him and Liam. "Keep up, Stilinski," he says.

"I'll kill you," Stiles says. "I mean it. I'm gonna turn you into a nice little werewolf rug." 

"Have to catch me first," Brett says, speeding up. He hears Scott laugh as Stiles launches into a tirade about Brett and how much he'd really like a pelt for his bedroom floor. 

Liam looks at him when he catches up. "Are you tormenting Stiles?" he asks.

"I'm just playing," Brett says defensively. 

Liam shrugs. "It's okay. We all do a bit. Except Scott." 

Brett sniggers. "He's easy to rile up," he says.

"He's never not riled up." Liam looks at him, clearly amused. "Did you come to keep me company?"

"I guess so. Maybe I came to turn it into a competition."

"It's already a competition. I'm winning." 

"You are not."

"I'm on my fifth lap."

Brett falls silent, because he's only just halfway through his fourth. "You run fast for someone who's got short legs, Dunbar," he says. "I'll give you that." 

"My legs aren't that short," Liam retorts.

"All of you is short. Hasn't anyone told you?"

"You aren't the first and won't be the last," Liam puffs. "I'm outrunning you anyway. What's your excuse?"

"I 'm slow. I move like a sloth."

"That's okay." Liam turns to smile at him, running backwards for a moment. "Sloths are cute."

Brett winkles his nose. "I'm not cute."

"Oh, I'm allowed to be cute, but you're not," Liam grumbles. "Okay. Whatever. You're gonna think it's really fucking cute when I overlap you again." With that, he takes off, leaving Brett smiling. 

Practice doesn't seem to go as slowly or as torturously when more often than not Brett and Liam end up paired for drills. Brett finds him infuriatingly difficult to catch - he might mock Liam for being small, but Liam being small makes him faster and more agile than Brett. 

Two long hours later, they all enter the locker rooms. Brett's too tired to think about trying to seek Liam out, and besides, if Liam's already getting shit from people, he doesn't want to add to it by making a scene. 

When he exits the showers, he finds that Liam's only just entering them; Devonford's locker room really isn't built to hold two teams, which is making it crowded. He gives Liam a brief clap on the shoulder before heading for his bag. 

He's only just fastened his jeans when Scott and Stiles appear. "Hey," he says, slowly, when they don't say anything. "What's up?"

"Is Liam going with you?" Stiles asks.

He's always found Stiles to be a little abrasive, but he knows he can't strangle him; Liam wouldn't like that. "Hadn't talked to him about it," Brett says. "I guess so." 

Scott takes a step forward. "We just wanna make sure he's safe," he says softly. "After the last week..." 

Brett nods slowly. "It's cool. I get it. I'll take him home." 

Stiles is physically floundering where he's standing. "Just - he's like a little brother to us, okay? Don't, you know, break his heart or anything. He didn't tell us you guys were even together so he definitely isn't gonna tell us if you hurt him."

Brett smirks. "Weren't you ready for him to leave the nest?" He can't help it; Liam might have unintentionally stamped out some of his more asshole-ish traits, but Stiles seems to bring them out. He's bristling now, glaring at Brett haughtily.

"Brett," Scott says pointedly.

Brett sighs. "I'm not gonna hurt him," he says. "If you hadn't noticed I kind of like him."

"You really like him?" Scott asks, seemingly unsure.

Brett wonders what got lost in translation, between him scent marking Liam so thoroughly they could make a Bath and Body Works candle out of the smell, rescuing him from the Dread Doctors, and taking him to and from everywhere just because. Whatever language Scott and Stiles speak, it's clearly not the same one he does.

"Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Brett says. "Otherwise I have other things to do." When he sees how unimpressed Stiles is - and how genuinely worried Scott looks - he says, "Yeah. I do. I'm sticking around. Don't worry. No need to turn me into a fuzzy pair of mittens." 

"Right." Stiles continues to look at him for a long moment. "Well. Okay then. Thanks for driving him home."

Scott gives Brett a sheepish, almost apologetic smile as they leave; Brett shakes his head, trying to clear it. He wonders if there's a secret to the way Stiles talks, and whether or not Liam's fluent enough in it to decode and translate for him. 

Most of the people in the locker room have filtered out; only a few stragglers are exiting the showers. Brett gets himself organised slowly, trying not to make it obvious that he's waiting for Liam.

He doesn't have to wait that long; Liam exits in a cloud of steam and heads over to his bag, spots Brett waiting nearby. "You're still here," he says, surprised.

"I'm driving you home, apparently." 

"Oh, cool. Thanks. You don't have to drive me everywhere, you know. It must get annoying."

"It doesn't." He's telling the truth; driving Liam home often results in at least one session of heavy-handed pawing over homework. He's not exactly suffering. "Almost ready?"

"Yeah." Liam scrubs at his hair, yanks on some boxers and jeans, sits down on the bench to put his socks and shoes on.

Brett glances around the locker room; there's no one else in here now, not that he can see or smell. Smirking, he puts his hands on either side of Liam's thighs and leans forward, waiting until Liam looks up to kiss him.

Liam only seems very vaguely surprised; he melts into Brett's mouth happily, shutting his eyes and making a soft noise.

Brett pulls away a little. "You played really well today," he murmurs, the words ghosting Liam's lips. Liam's eyes are half open, flickering between Brett's eyes and his mouth. He doesn't seem to hear what Brett said.

"I mean it," Brett whispers, slinking in closer. "You looked great." 

Liam gives a faint smile; he's leaning up, trying to catch Brett's lips again. "Thanks." Unable to quite get there, he stands up, trying to get his own way. Brett likes it when Liam fights for what he wants instead of hesitating. 

"Come on," Liam whines. "Why're you backing up?" Brett's just teasing, seeing if Liam will follow him over to the back wall; Liam's shirtless, still damp from his shower, his hair dark with water. Brett finally lets Liam catch him when his back's against the wall.

Liam doesn't seem worried or uncertain about stepping in between Brett's feet and tilting his face up. Brett decides he won't comment on the way Liam's not quite on his tiptoes, because that's bound to get him pissed off. Instead, he lets Liam have his way, because it's not like it's a chore to kiss Liam. 

He tilts his head down to facilitate the kiss, sighs when Liam settles his hands on his waist and gives him a squeeze. He hopes one day this kind of touching becomes commonplace and not just something that happens when Liam's inhibitions happen to be lowered. 

Liam's starting to grab at him a little more desperately when Brett feels something wet on his upper lip. He pulls away, because getting a runny nose while kissing is just disgusting, and touches his upper lip. His fingers come away red. 

"You're bleeding," Liam says.

Brett wipes his nose again, but nothing else comes up; one look at Liam shows that his own nose is dripping blood. "I'm not," he says, concerned. "You are." 

Liam wipes at his nose; he manages to get the blood off, but more replaces it, thick and fast. "Fuck," he mutters. 

"Did I knock it?" Brett asks slowly. He's hoping, desperately hoping, that maybe Liam's nose just didn't set and he bumped it while they kissed and that's why it's bleeding again, but a broken nose would hurt and Liam would have known. He shouldn't be bleeding.

Liam shakes his head. "No," he says quietly.

Brett grabs a few paper towels, ignoring the scent of Liam's blood heavy in the air. "Okay," he says. "No big deal. It'll stop on its own. Just sit down until it does." 

Liam slides down the wall, holding the paper towels to his face. Brett sits down next to him, his mind racing, trying to think of something to say. All he can come up with is that Liam's nose bled twice the night they rescued him from the Doctors, triggered by absolutely nothing. 

Liam seems to be thinking the same thing. "This happened when you came and got me from the water filtration plant," he says softly.

"Yeah," Brett says uneasily. "But that black stuff, you know, we don't really know what it did. Your body might still be getting it all out." 

The hand towels are soaked through. Brett grabs more and swaps them out. There's blood dripping down Liam's fingers and wrists, slowly, seeping out of him uncontrollably. 

"You know," Liam says, "the chimeras bleed mercury when their bodies fail." 

Brett looks at the hand towels. "You aren't bleeding mercury," he says. "It's just blood, Li. It's fine-"

"What if it's different for me because I'm a werewolf?" Liam asks. "I'm not a chimera. We don't know what they did to me. We barely know what they did to Hayden-"

Brett grabs desperately for more towels; the blood is flowing thicker now, and faster. "Stop talking," he says. "Okay? Let it stop bleeding first." He doesn't know why Liam's gone three days without any issues, or why the bloody nose is cropping up now, twice in one day. "Whatever it is, we'll work it out," Brett says, sounding far more confident than he feels. "You feel okay otherwise?"

"Yeah," Liam mumbles. 

They sit there for five minutes or so, in near silence, until Liam pulls the towels away from his face hesitantly. "I think it's slowing down," he says.

Brett nods. Liam's face is pale, his hands dyed red, face smeared with blood. "There's no way I can take you home like this," he says. "Someone's gonna think you've been attacked." He helps Liam stand up, alarmed when he closes his eyes and wobbles. "Jesus, you okay?"

"Kinda lightheaded," Liam murmurs. 

Brett leaves his hands on Liam's arms until he's sure he can stand on his own. "Are you fine to get back to the car?" he asks. "I can bring it around. Or I can help you."

Liam shakes his head. "I'm alright. I'm just sort of dizzy." He heads to the taps, splashes water on his face to clean the blood off, washes his hands. "Did I miss any?"

"No." Liam's face looks a little better without the contrast between the blood and his skin. "You're good." He picks up Liam's shirt, hands it to him, not sure of what else to do.  
Liam pulls it on over his head, grabs some more of the hand towels. "Just in case," he says sheepishly.

"Yeah." Brett nods slowly, waits for Liam to grab his bag. The mood from before is gone; this shouldn't still be happening and Brett is freaking the fuck out. Quietly, so Liam doesn't know. 

They're only five minutes in the drive home when Liam swears under his breath. Brett turns to look - as much as he can while he's driving, anyway - and sees Liam pressing the paper towels against his face, nose bleeding anew.

"Liam," he says worriedly.

"I'm fine," Liam says thickly. "It's not as bad as before." 

Brett's grateful the drive doesn't last long; they're soon at Liam's, which is good because the paper towels are starting to lose integrity with how soaked they're getting. Brett heads round to Liam's door and opens it.

"What are you doing?" Liam's staring at the seat.

"I'm making sure I didn't drip anywhere," Liam says, voice muffled by the paper towels.

Brett shakes his head. "Jesus, Liam. It doesn't matter right now. Come on." He finds Liam's key in his school bag - amidst five million other seemingly useless things - and unlocks the door. 

"Got anything cold?" he calls as he heads to the kitchen.

Liam appears behind him a few seconds later. "Don't need it," he says. "It's stopped."

"For now."

"Yeah." Liam throws the towels in the bin, grimacing at his hands. "I'm gonna go clean up," he says. "Help yourself to whatever... as usual."

Brett stands in the kitchen for a moment. He wants to know what the fuck is going on with these random nose bleeds, which can't be anything good, but he's still not sure if he should push Liam to tell him what happened with the Dread Doctors. 

He heads upstairs. Liam's finished cleaning off and is in his bedroom, rooting around for a shirt to wear. He's pulling it over his head as Brett enters; he looks up when he's done, gives Brett a small smile.

"I'm okay."

He looks pale, but he has just spent a big chunk of time bleeding, so Brett doesn't think too much of it. Instead, he sits down in Liam's desk chair. He's about to motion Liam over when Liam moves forward of his own accord. He stands awkwardly for a moment, then, apparently screwing up some kind of latent courage, slides onto Brett's lap.

Brett puts his arms around Liam's waist, smiles at him, tips his head sideways and watches as the action forces Liam to smile back at him.

"Hey," Liam says quietly.

"Hmm."

Brett gives himself a moment to enjoy this - to enjoy Liam's thighs on his, their pelvises pressed together, the soft smell of Liam lingering in the air, before he sends them crashing back down into reality.

"Liam," he murmurs, "is there... anything you remember from the other night?" He doesn't clarify because they both know what he's referring to. "Anything you haven't told me?"

The look of sheer fright on Liam's face when he says that last sentence - like Brett's figured something out Liam really does not want him to know - has him backtracking instantly. "You don't have to tell me," he says hurriedly. "If you don't wanna talk about it-"

"I promised I wouldn't tell," Liam says eventually.

Brett looks at him, concerned. "Promised you wouldn't tell what, Li?" he asks quietly. "Is it a pack thing?"

"No, I - I don't think so. I think I'm the only one who knows."

No wonder this secret has been stressing Liam out; he doesn't even have anyone else to talk to about it. "I wanna tell you," he mumbles. "But I promised Stiles I wouldn't." 

"Stiles?" He doesn't want to press, but he's starting to think that whatever Liam's keeping from him, it's much more serious than what he originally thought, and at the moment, it seems like it's really actually hurting Liam to have to keep it.

"You don't have to tell me," Brett says. "I'm not asking because I want to know. I'm just worried about you, yeah? Seems like heavy stuff."

Liam shuts his eyes, leans forward, and nestles into Brett's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Brett's neck and burying his face there. There's a long pause; Brett closes his eyes, savours the feeling of Liam against him, healthy and alive and whole.

"Stiles killed Donovan," Liam whispers.

Brett freezes where he's sitting, then pulls back to look at Liam, who can't even meet his eyes. He smells so guilty and worried Brett's first instinct is to soothe him - he smoothes Liam's hair back off his face, kisses his chin, tries to get Liam to meet his eyes.

"What?" he asks slowly.

Liam meets his eyes; there's fear there. "Stiles killed Donovan." And now that the words are out, they're tumbling out of his mouth so quickly Brett has trouble keeping up. "He didn't mean to, Donovan attacked him in the school library and Stiles broke the shelves and one of the metal beams impaled him or something, he didn't mean to do it, but nobody else knows and-"

"How do you know?" Brett interrupts. 

"I - I was meant to be helping him track Theo, but he was bleeding, I could smell the blood, and I asked what happened and he _said_ nothing and his heartbeat didn't change but I just - I knew he was lying so I asked again." Liam takes a deep breath. "He made me promise not to tell anyone," he whimpers. "And he was hurt, he was bleeding, he smelled bad, and I didn't know what else to do so I agreed."

Something clicks into place for Brett then; Liam knows. Nobody else does. Which means Liam is keeping a huge secret from his alpha. 

"Scott keeps asking what's wrong," Liam moans. "He knows I'm hiding something but Stiles told me not to tell him because-"

"Because he's Scott and Scott doesn't kill people," Brett says. 

Liam nods.

"How long have you been keeping this a secret?" Brett asks.

"Pretty much all month," Liam moans, dipping his head back onto Brett's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I promised him. You can't tell anyone, Brett. If Scott finds out-"

"Stiles is his best friend," Brett says incredulously. "He's not going to-"

"He might! With Theo around. Brett, you can't tell. I shouldn't have even told you, Stiles is gonna kill me if he finds out-"

Brett kneads the back of Liam's neck until he relaxes back and starts to breathe a little easier. "It's been stressing you out, huh?" Brett murmurs sympathetically. "Keeping it a secret from everyone. Stiles wouldn't be mad. He wouldn't want you to be stressed all the time." 

Liam nods, but doesn't say anything. Brett doesn't think there's anything more he can do to make it better; Liam probably started his cycle of mental self-harm before he'd even told Brett, and now all Brett can do is work him through it.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's go to bed." 

But even once they're in bed, he can tell Liam's not sleeping, and all Brett can think about is the fact that once this secret finally comes to light, everyone is going to look bad and nobody is going to escape the repercussions of it.

Stiles killed Donovan.

At least it's one less chimera they have to deal with.

~*~

"So, what's on for today?"

Liam yawns. "Meant to be meeting Mason and Corey at the school gym during lunch hour," he says. "To see what Corey can do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Liam thumbs distractedly at his phone; it's Candy Crush again. "So Mason says. I think he probably just wants a reason to hang around Corey and maybe make out with him."

"Mason and Corey, huh?" Brett murmurs. "S'pose they're both kinda hot."

Liam gives him a wounded look.

"You're hotter, though," Brett says quickly. "Don't you think they're hot?"

"Mason's my best friend and I don't know Corey," Liam says blankly. "Not really. I told you, you're the only guy I've ever wanted to..." 

He trails off into a vague mumble, a blush taking hold of his face and neck, slides down lower in the seat. Brett smirks. "The only guy you've wanted to... what?" he teases. 

"You know," Liam mumbles.

"I don't. You'll have to tell me. Go on."

"You're the only guy I've wanted to have sex with," Liam blurts out. "And fuck you for making me say it, by the way. Are you satisfied now?"

"Very," Brett sniggers.

They roll up at BHHS. Brett turns to Liam, giving him a quick once-over. His nose hasn't bled since yesterday, and he's got colour in his cheeks, but Brett wants to make sure he's alright before he steps inside the school, where Brett is at least twenty minutes away by car and almost completely out of contact. 

"Don't worry." Liam's stuffing his phone into his backpack. "I'm not going to burst into flames or anything."

"Uh huh." Brett's not convinced, what with Liam's luck. "Call me if something happens?" 

"You know I will." Liam turns back to him, leans over a little, and gives him a quick kiss, pretending that he isn't blushing. "Okay. Bye."

"Bye, dork."

Liam swings out of the car and jumps up the steps to the entrance of the school; Brett sighs as he turns the ignition on again and wheels the car around.

He really hates school days.

~*~

Brett's had his head in his textbook for fifteen minutes - he's dozing off with his cheek against the page that details some boring crap about Shakespeare - when his phone rings.

His heart plummets when he sees that it's Liam; he gathers his things up hurriedly and leaves as he swipes on his phone.

"Liam?"

"Corey's getting taken to the hospital." There's a flurry of noise backing Liam's voice; shouting, voices, the wail of an ambulance.

"What? Why?"

"He's puking mercury," Liam says. "Scott and Theo are going to the hospital with him, but we can't find Hayden and she might be next." 

"Okay." Brett's already at his locker, searching desperately for his keys. "I'll meet you at your school - we can find Hayden if we're both working on it. Why did she leave?"

"She saw Corey getting loaded into the ambulance, she must've panicked," Liam says. "I was gonna try her house first, see if she's there-"

"Yeah, okay," Brett says. "Then Sinema?" 

"Yeah. Mason's gonna look around the school-"

Considering Mason's human, he's probably the safest out of the lot of them, Brett considers dryly. "Alright. I'm on my way."

Liam's waiting on the steps when Brett gets there, seems to spot his car immediately - for once - and rushes down them. "Hi," he says as he gets into the car.

"Hey. Hayden's?"

Liam nods. "You remember the way?" 

"Yeah. How're we gonna know if she's home?"

"She drove to school and her car isn't in the lot so she must've driven home too." Liam leans forward in his seat, peering out the window. "If we check the driveway we could just head straight to Sinema?"

"Good plan," Brett says. He's grateful that Hayden lives close to the school, because it only takes them five minutes to get there - and when they do, the driveway is empty, curtains closed, lights off.

"Sinema it is," Brett says.

~*~

Hayden's car is the only one in the back parking lot at Sinema.

The club isn't due to open for hours yet; the sun is still high in the sky, beating down on them as they get out of the car and head inside. Brett's picking up Hayden's scent, marred and warped with fear and anxiety.

The doors are open; Liam enters first, sticking his head around the corner. There's no sign of the Doctors, but that doesn't mean they aren't here or won't show up.

"Hayden?" he calls hesitantly.

The club is dark; the only thing moving is the silent film-reel playing against the chained wall. Brett listens intently, hears a rustling behind the counter.

"Hayden," he says. "We know you're here." 

She stands up from behind the bar, clutching an envelope in one hand and a heavy-looking bottle in the other. "Back off!" she warns them.

"We're trying to help," Liam says pleadingly. 

"You might be," she says, "but Scott used me as bait. How do I know that won't happen again? I don't want those - those Doctor guys to kidnap me again."

She's got a pretty good point, Brett admits to himself. The more chimeras die at the hands of the Doctors, the less they know, and Scott's pack is divided. 

"They won't if you let us help," Liam says. "Hayden, c'mon - Corey's already at the hospital and we wanna make sure they don't come for you. Or that if they do you're safe."

She watches them, eyes frightened by hard with resolve, and Brett feels a stab of pity for her - she's only just found out she has supernatural powers, which is enough to deal with on its own, and now she's the target of supernatural creatures they have no idea how to beat. She's having a rough week. 

Brett senses something's wrong right before the images on the screen start going haywire. There's something sinisterly quiet about the place; he turns around uneasily.

"We should go," he says.

He sees Liam's eyes turn towards him just as the room is plunged into almost complete darkness. 

"They're here," Hayden says slowly. "Aren't they?"

And if they're here for Hayden, chances are they've already gotten to Corey. Brett starts across the room, hears the mechanical whirring of gears spinning, the heavy footsteps of the Doctors, just as he catches sight of one of their masks, glinting coldly in the blue half-light of Sinema. 

He's racing towards the first one he sees, ready to try and defend Liam and Hayden from it, well before he sees the second one enter - and it gets the better of him, grabs him around the neck and flings him most of the way across the room. He hits the ground hard, sees stars as his head bangs against the concrete floor, feels himself sliding. 

He hopes Hayden has the sense to hide somewhere, or try to get out, but he can only see two of the Doctors, blurrily, from where he's lying, knows there has to be another one around here somewhere. 

He's getting up, looking for Liam or Hayden or both, but Liam's got his face pressed against the bars of one of the dancing cages by one of the Doctors, and he sees the flash of a syringe right before the open, hollow end is plunged into Liam's neck. 

Somewhere, distantly, he hears himself roar, tracks the Doctor as he moves - probably faster than he ever has - towards them, yanks the Doctor backwards and off Liam, but the damage is done - the plunger is down and there's no more fluid left in the syringe. And Hayden is gone, somewhere, Theo and Scott are running into the room-

"Where's Hayden?" Scott yells. 

Liam's standing up, dazedly, hand pressed over his neck, but he seems alright, and Brett knows they're really after Hayden, not Liam, but it's hard to leave Liam standing here when he doesn't know what they did to him-

Liam's head whips around when they hear a shriek, and, rounding the corner to the back room, find the same Doctor holding Hayden in what looks like an inescapable grip. Liam's yelling - a noise of anguish and grief - as she's injected with mercury.

The effect is instantaneous; her eyes gloss over silver, roll back into her head as the mercury is absorbed instantly into her bloodstream. And Liam's still yelling. 

The Doctor lets Hayden go, and for a moment, the room blurs and twists as the whirring of the gears fades along with the heavy footsteps, and the Doctors are gone. Hayden's leaning against a wall, but she's standing upright, and Liam's the first one to go to her.

"Hayden?" he asks.

"I think I'm okay," Hayden says.

~*~

Hayden's not okay.

That becomes painfully obvious a mere few minutes later, when they're in Theo's car and already on the way to the animal clinic. Deaton isn't there - where the hell is he anyway? - but Scott thinks there might be something there that can help her.

Liam seems fine, though. The injection site hasn't healed but he also doesn't seem to be suffering any adverse effects of whatever it was the Doctors injected straight into his bloodstream, so for now, they focus on Hayden, who's shivering and wracked with tremors of pain. 

Brett carries her into the animal clinic. Her eyes, where they rest on his for a moment, are wide, frightened, agonised. He makes a conscious effort of draining as much of her pain away as he can. Not too long ago, this was Liam. He carried Liam and thought he was going to die. 

Except this is different, somehow. Her scent is different to Liam's then. Hayden really is dying this time around. Brett tries not to think about the way her eyes glassed over with the mercury as he takes her inside and lowers her down in the corner. 

Theo kneels down next to him. "How is she?"

Brett gives him a look. He knows Theo can smell it too, doesn't know why he bothers asking. 

Liam turns around before he reaches them. "Stiles is here," he says, confused.

Sure enough, Brett hears the rumble of the Jeep. "Scott's out there," he says. "He can meet him. Let's just worry about this for now." 

He and Theo leave Hayden lying in Liam's lap while they scrounge for things to make her comfortable. It's a vet clinic, though, not a proper hospital, and that makes things hard for them. Considering the place hasn't even been open in more than a fortnight, Brett's not expecting they'll find anything helpful. 

"Stiles is leaving," Liam says, confused.

"What?" Brett listens; the Jeep is rumbling away. "Why-"

Liam's shifting Hayden a little, passes her off to Theo when he comes back. "I dunno," he says, clearly distracted. "I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying." 

Liam heads outside; it's pelting down rain so hard the drops feel like hailstones, striking every inch of them with a moist, unpleasantly warm rain. "Scott," he says. "Where's Stiles going?"

Scott turns to them. He looks upset, betrayed, maybe a little angry. "He couldn't stay," he says.

"Why?" Liam demands. "We needed him here-"

"Liam..." 

Brett realises Scott knows about Stiles and Donovan a split second before Scott says, "Stiles killed Donovan." 

Liam looks like he's about to retort, but the expression on his face must read as something more akin to shock and betrayal than fear to Scott, because Scott heads towards them, continuing his sentence desperately.

"Look, Liam." Scott has his hands up in that irritatingly placating gesture. "Stiles isn't - he killed Donovan! He's not safe around the chimeras-"

"That - what?" Liam demands. 

"Theo told me." Scott looks distraught. "That Stiles killed him. Theo was there. He watched it happen." 

"What are you talking about?" Liam says, voice rising so he's heard over the rain. "It was an accident! You can't be angry at him for an accident!"

"An accident?" Scott says back. "Is bludgeoning someone to death with a spanner an accident?"

Brett looks at Liam, surprised; that's not what Liam said happened. Liam looks like he's out of his depth too, looks at Brett, then back at Scott, and says, "but that's - that's not what happened?" He takes a step forward. "Donovan was trying to kill him-"

"You knew?" Scott's stepping forward. "You knew this entire time that he killed Donovan and you didn't say _anything_!"

"I promised I wouldn't!" Liam yells. "Because he thought you'd freak out and you are!"

"He murdered Donovan, Liam!"

"It was self defence! Donovan was going to eat his legs, Stiles was climbing up some kind of rack thing in the school library and he managed to pull the pin holding it together and one of the beams impaled him!" Liam's staring at Scott with clear betrayal on his face. "Stiles didn't bludgeon anyone!"

"Theo said-"

"Fuck Theo!" Liam bellows. "If you stopped listening to Theo and started listening to us we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"Theo saved your life, Liam," Scott says, and he sounds genuinely angry now.

"Brett saved my life," Liam spits. "Brett found me. He carried me out. Or did Theo tell you a different story?" 

"Scott," Brett says, taking a hesitant step forward. "Listen, Liam's telling you the truth. He told me yesterday. His heartbeat didn't change. Stiles killed Donovan in self-defence, not cold blood. Come on, he's-"

Scott growls at him, and Brett's sentence dies as he slams his jaw shut and backs away. Scott might not be his alpha, but the beta inside him still wants to obey, and right now his wolf is whimpering in the back of his head with its paws over its head.

Liam snarls, and Brett sees that his eyes are starting to glow yellow, fangs descending. Scott is apparently not having any of that, because he turns right around, grabs Liam's throat and throws him up against the wall of the vet's, the follow-up growl shaking the windowpanes.

Liam's eyes fade back to their original colour, and he hangs limply in Scott's grasp, still as a doll, waiting to be let go. Brett knows the super moon is fuelling all of their tempers right now but his wolf isn't exactly thrilled that Scott is threatening Liam.

"Put him down, Scott," he says. He's trying to stay in control, but he doesn't like the way Liam is playing dead. 

Scott seems to come back to himself, lowers Liam to the ground. Liam fingers his throat, looking up at his alpha, then to Brett.

"It was an accident," Liam croaks to Scott. "He didn't mean to."

"Why would Theo lie?" Scott snaps.

"Wow, I dunno, maybe he's the only person ever to fuck you over because he's got a hidden agenda," Brett says. "Not that it matters right now, because Hayden is dying and we have to do something."

"I need to find Stiles," Scott says. "Stay with her here. I've called my mom."

"Scott-"

But Scott is leaving, and Brett realises, more than he has up until this point, that Liam's pack isn't breaking - it's already broken.

~*~

"How's she doing?" Liam asks nervously.

They've got Hayden lying on the steel table in the clinic, covered in a blanket with a drip feeding into her body. She's shaking, but seems to be pretty out of it. 

Brett hopes she's not in pain and unable to tell them. He feels like Mrs. McCall is doing everything she can to prevent that anyway.

Mrs. McCall looks up at Liam's question, her face grave and worn. "I think we should call her sister," she says softly.

"And tell her what?" Brett asks.

"Everything, if we have to. I'm going to call Sheriff Stilinski, see if he can get hold of Clarke. This isn't looking good, guys. I want to move her to the hospital but I'm not sure she'll make the trip."

She leaves when neither of them answer; Hayden makes a small sound where she's lying. Liam reaches for her, takes her hand, and squeezes; Brett watches as his veins turn black at his hand. He didn't know that Liam knew how to do that. 

"Don't let me die without my sister," Hayden croaks.

"Mrs. McCall's gonna get her," Liam promises. His voice is shaking.

Brett wants Scott's mom to look at Liam too, when she has a spare minute; the Doctors injected him with something too, and the puncture site on his neck hasn't healed. It's still bleeding a little, too. 

He moves closer, touches Liam's shoulder. "How're you feeling?" he asks softly.

"I'm fine," Liam says. "I feel fine." 

He wants to press - he saw the liquid goes into Liam's neck and even if he feels fine now, it can't have been anything good - but Mrs. McCall comes back, shaking her head.

"I want to move her to the hospital," she says softly. "This is an animal clinic. I think I can probably treat her better there."

"Okay." 

The trip to the hospital seems long, with Hayden lying across Liam's lap and shivering helplessly. Looking closely at her, Brett can see spots appearing on her neck and supposes that answers the question of what she's supposed to be - a were-leopard. Jesus. He didn't even know half this stuff existed.

"Where's my sister?" Hayden breathes as they wheel her through the hospital. 

"I'm gonna try her again, sweetie," Mrs. McCall promises. "I just need you to hold on for me, okay? We're gonna try and help you." 

But Hayden's skin is already starting to turn grey, and it's been almost two hours since she was first injected with the mercury. Brett's seen how fast the chimeras deteriorate; they all have.

"Okay." Her voice is a whisper; she's clinging to Liam's hand weakly, and Brett can see that every now and then, his veins pulse black. He looks up, swears he thinks that Liam's eyes are wet. Maybe they are. 

Mrs. McCall tries twice more to get onto someone, anyone, who might be able to contact Clarke, to no avail - it's as if the entire Beacon Hills police department has their phones on silent. Brett wonders what's going on that every officer is unable to answer. 

The room they end up in is dark, kind of cold; it's part of the new expansion being done on the hospital, but isn't finished yet. At least here they have privacy.

It takes them less than five minutes to realise, upon arriving, that Hayden's unconscious; when Mrs. McCall hooks her up to the machines, her heartbeat is slow and irregular. 

"Mrs. McCall," Liam pleads.

"I'm trying, Liam," she says. Her voice breaks. "But I don't know what I'm doing and I don't think there's anything else I can do." 

The liquid in Hayden's IV bag is beginning to turn black. Her eyes, even shut, are leaking tears of mercury. 

Brett think they're too late to do anything. 

~*~

It's only half an hour later - after Mrs. McCall has tried a myriad of medical procedures with increasing levels of desperation - that Hayden flat lines.

They stand at her body for a long time, until Mrs. McCall - who's cheeks are wet with tears, croaks, "Parrish will be here for the body soon. You boys go." 

"Her sister," Liam says.

"I know. I'm going to try to keep reaching her. But there's no point you boys being here. Go home. Get some rest." 

Going home is a little harder than it looks. Brett's car is still at Sinema, and Liam seems reluctant to move from Hayden's side. Brett knows he feels guilty. Hell, he does too. He keeps wondering if there's something more he could have done to protect her, to help her. But the Doctors want what they want, and they've pretty much proven that they're capable of getting it.

They try calling around Liam's pack, but Theo is the only one who answers. He drives them wordlessly to Brett's car after they tell him what happened. Brett doesn't have the energy to look for any odd behaviour on Theo's part.

He's done. There's nothing more anyone can do. The chimeras are all dead - and they couldn't save a single one.

~*~

Liam heads straight to bed when they get inside, even though the sun is still up. He doesn't bother stripping off before climbing under the duvet and pulling a pillow over his head.

Brett gets in the other side. Slowly, he lifts the corner of the pillow, enough to see a few tears snaking down Liam's nose and face.

Liam pulls the pillow back over his head, and Brett lets him keep it that way until Liam croaks. "I thought we could save her."

Brett's heart sinks even lower than what it was. "Yeah," he says. "Me too. I'm sorry, Li."

"Her sister..."

"I know." 

He shuffles in close. An hour or so drifts by before Liam gets up and gets a drink, brings it back so Brett can have some too.

"Are we ever gonna win?" Liam mumbles.

"Yeah. Of course." But Brett knows his heart falters as he says it. He doesn't even know if Liam hears, judging by the way his eyes are slipping closed.

Brett feels his own follow suit. It's been a long day and the only way Brett can think to escape it is to just close his eyes and drift off for a while.

Maybe he'll wake up and it'll have been a dream.

~*~

Brett opens his eyes and it's dark out.

The moon is hanging low in the sky and Brett feels it, the reason he woke up - the incessant, insatiable itch of his wolf beneath his skin, the super moon getting into his pores and lighting him on fire. He groans, clenches his hands.

He's better than this, knows more control than this. But it's hard. If he just wolfed out, he might forget for a bit. This is like his pack all over again. Bodies everywhere, lifeless, no real rhyme or reason behind it.

Liam stirs next to him, and Brett rolls over to look at him.

The moon is up. Liam should be changing if he's so out of control - Brett can feel the itch of it beneath his skin, a hundred times worse than usual. But he's not. He's unnaturally still and quiet where he lies next to Brett on the bed. 

"Li," he says. "You feeling anything?"

Liam shakes his head. Brett raises his eyes incredulously. "Nothing at all?" he presses. "Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure." 

Liam's voice is weak. Brett reaches over and flicks the light on, alarmed to find that Liam's sweating and shaking, frighteningly pale against the blue of his bed sheets. "Liam, what's going on?" 

"Nothing," Liam snaps feebly.

"You're sick." Liam's chemo-signals are going haywire. "Why're you sick?"

Liam responds with a cough. Brett waits for it to end, but it goes on and on, gripping Liam tighter in its grasp every time. "Fuck," Brett mutters. "Liam, sit up. Come on, sit up." He yanks Liam upright, keeping him upright and patting his back forcefully. "Come on, just breathe, yeah?"

It's always worked before, but right now Liam rolls his eyes to Brett and they're stark with terror, and Brett realises he can't. "What's going on?" he asks helplessly.

But Liam can't answer him. At a loss, Brett slams his palm against Liam's back.

Liam chokes, then gives a final cough and splutters as black liquid begins seeping out of his mouth. 

"Oh, God," Brett mutters. "We need to get you to the hospital." He doesn't know why that's his first thought but that looks like the same shit Liam got pumped full of by the Doctors and he's not changing, which is definitely not good-

As he tips Liam forward, trying to get him to breathe easier, he notices that the injection site on Liam's neck is turning black, the veins around the area turning into a dark, poisonous web. The wound site is oozing black liquid. Even from here, Brett can see that it's exiting Liam's nose too.

"No," he mutters, frantically looking for something to wipe Liam's face with. "No no no, I don't-"

He doesn't know what to do. He can't think of anything to do that might help; Liam's gasping for breath like there's something caught in his throat, shuddering like he's going to fall into a series of convulsions. 

"Liam, hold on," he murmurs. "I just-" _Don't know what to do, you were sick and I slept through the whole thing, I was fucking asleep-_

"Call Mrs. McCall," Liam chokes around another cough. 

Brett searches frantically for a towel or something to wipe Liam's face with as he dials Melissa. She answers almost right away.

"Brett? What's wrong?"

"It's Liam." He finds a towel, pushes it up under Liam's face in an attempt to wipe away some of the black stuff - it's thick, viscous, which is probably why Liam's having trouble breathing. "He's really sick, he just got bad now-"

"Bring him here, okay? I'll meet you around the back."

"Have something ready." Liam's swaying helplessly where he's sitting. "He's getting worse. He won't be able to walk."

"Alright, sweetie. Just hurry, okay?"

"Okay." He hangs up, stows his phone and finds his keys and jacket. "Okay, Li," he says. He finds a blanket at the end of Liam's bed, wraps it around his shoulders to try and keep him warm. Liam's gasping for air like he's drowning. "Let's go." 

He doesn't bother asking if Liam can walk; he hasn't got time for any of that shit. He hoists Liam up and almost runs down the stairs, unlocks his car awkwardly with one hand, puts Liam in the passenger seat. "Keep tilted forward, okay? Just try to breathe." 

The drive to the hospital is the longest ten minutes of Brett's life, listening to Liam choke and gasp - and cry, God, he's crying - and get generally worse. No matter how much Liam coughs, he can't seem to clear whatever's in his airways, and the black stuff is coming thick and fast.

Brett parks haphazardly, swings out of the car before the ignition has even settled, and runs to the passenger door. "Alright, let's go," he says. "Okay. I've got you. Just hang on."

_He's turning blue. His lips are turning blue, he can't breathe-_

"Damn it, Liam," he says, puts him down on the concrete and slams a hand against his back. Liam chokes up what looks like at least a cupful of the black stuff, but he seems to be able to breathe a little easier now. 

"Brett," Liam gasps.

"Shut up," Brett snaps. His voice breaks. "Okay? We're almost there."

"I can't breathe." The fright in Liam's eyes transfers over to Brett. "I can't-"

"Then stop talking!" Brett begs. "Liam, come on, I - don't do this, okay? Don't do this." He slams the back door to the hospital open. "Mrs. McCall!" he bellows. 

Liam's gone still in his arms. His chest is still jerking, but his eyes are shut. "No no no," Brett moans. "Come on, Liam, no, open your eyes - _Mrs. McCall!_ "

He bounces Liam, trying to get him to open his eyes. Liam's still coughing, but it sounds like he's losing the fight to get air into his lungs, and Brett's never been more relieved to see Mrs. McCall or anyone in his life when she rounds the corner.

Her face drops. "Liam," she says. "Oh, sweetie. What happened?"

"I don't know." Brett tries to choke down the panic; Liam needs him clear-headed and able to help. "I don't know, he was fine an hour ago, he just got sick-"

"Bring him this way. Quick."

"He can't breathe," Brett chokes out.

"I know, sweetie, I know, I need your help, okay? I need you to hold it together so you can help me. Put him down here." There's a bed in the hallway, blankets pulled back already, and Brett sets Liam down. "On his side," Mrs. McCall says. "In case he vomits."

Brett blinks. "He's already-"

"That's not vomit," Mrs. McCall interrupts, beginning to move the bed. "That's coming from his lungs. It's a pulmonary edema. They're usually caused by congestive heart failure."

Heart failure. Brett's own threatens to do just that when he hears the words. He got Liam here as quick as he could, he was fine two hours ago, how could it have gotten this bad? How could he not have noticed Liam was getting sick-

"Brett." She grabs his arm across the bed. "I need you with me," she says fiercely. "What is this stuff?"

She's talking about the black stuff Liam's still fighting to cough up. His eyes are half-open but rolled back into his head; Brett doubts he can even comprehend what they're saying. "The Doctors," he says, swallowing. "When the Doctors had him they were injecting him with it, the stuff they use on the chimeras, they got him today the same time they got Hayden but Liam was fine - he was fine-"

"Brett, Hayden is-"

"I know," Brett says, overwhelmed. "That's why I brought him here." 

Liam gives a low, keening moan, choked out around the black liquid spewing from his mouth. "Oh, sweetie," Mrs. McCall murmurs, leaning down to stroke his forehead. "You hang in there, alright? Just hang in there." 

But Brett knows just by looking at Liam that he's hanging on by a thread. "What are we gonna do?" he asks shakily.

"Right now, we need to aspirate his lungs - clear the fluid caused by the edema so he can breathe," she says. "It'll buy him some time. Then we figure the rest out as we go."

"Okay." 

She wheels them into a room and locks the bed so that it doesn't move. "I need to go get the equipment," she says urgently. "No matter what you do, Brett, keep him breathing." 

He turns to Liam, stroking the side of his face. He doesn't even know if Liam knows he's here anymore. "Keep breathing, Liam," he begs. "Keep breathing." 

Liam's eyes roll towards him, exhausted. He's still coughing, but it's a weak effort at best and Brett has the sudden image of Liam's lungs flooding with black liquid like a sewer in the middle of a storm, feels an icy douse of fear when he realises Liam's too weak to keep coughing the way he has been and that the fluid is going to keep building up and up until-

"No," he snaps at Liam. "Don't you dare, Dunbar." He hauls Liam upright, bends him forward, and starts slamming his hand against Liam's back. "Come on," he says, panting with the effort. "Liam, you need to keep coughing. Just for a while. Mrs. McCall's gonna be back soon, you just need to keep coughing." 

Liam's next breath is shuddery and feeble, doesn't go nearly deep enough to get air into his lungs. He coughs, a little stronger than last time. 

"Harder," Brett says. "Liam, I will physically stick my fingers down your throat to clear it if you don't cough harder, so you may as well." 

The next cough dislodges some of the liquid congealed at the back of Liam's throat, and Liam takes a grateful gasp for air. He's soaked through with cold sweat, hair damp and limp against his forehead, shaking and pale. And, Brett realises, he still can't breathe well.

The door swings open; it's Mrs. McCall, wheeling a trolley with different machines and tubes on it. "Alright," she says. "Let's get started."


	12. Twelve - Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with chapter 12! This one isn't as long, but I think the next one's gonna be pretty big. Thanks for reading/commenting/kudo'ing! Hope you all enjoy ^^

**Chapter Twelve - Recovery**  
"Liam, come on, I - don't do this, okay? Don't do this."

Brett's voice is distant from him, barely reaching his ears even though Liam can feel his arms around him. He can't hear. Can't see very well either. He's too busy struggling to get enough air in his lungs to stay conscious. 

"Mrs. McCall!" Brett yells.

The world's going slowly darker; Liam can't see anyway so he finally succumbs to his body's desire to close his eyes, choking around the liquid he can feel drowning him from the inside out, filling him up and stopping the air from getting to his lungs.

"No no no." Brett's voice is a broken bird, its bones crackling as it tries to fly. "Come on, Liam, no, open your eyes - _Mrs. McCall!_ "

He tries opening his eyes so Brett knows he's okay but he can't quite get them there, panics when he realises that his body has relinquished control over to whatever it is that's happening to him. He feels Brett bouncing him frantically.

"Liam. Oh, sweetie. What happened?" It's Mrs. McCall's voice and Liam feels a stir of hope because she couldn't save Hayden but maybe that was different, maybe she can save him-  
"I don't know. I don't know, he was fine an hour ago, he just got sick-" Brett sounds like he's drowning as much as Liam is.

"Bring him this way. Quick."

"He can't breathe."

"I know, sweetie, I know, I need your help, okay? I need you to hold it together so you can help me. Put him down here." Liam's deposited on a mattress, feels the bed begin to move. Some things are far away - Brett's voice, his scent, the lights of the hospital - but some things he's hyper aware of. Brett's hand around his. The click of the wheels across the tile as he's moved.

"On his side. In case he vomits." Liam feels Brett turn him onto his side, finds it a little easier to breathe in this position. He tilts his head upwards, trying to open up some space in his throat, but it doesn't help.

"He's already-"

"That's not vomit. That's coming from his lungs. It's a pulmonary edema. They're usually caused by congestive heart failure."

_Oh, God_. Liam's suddenly embroiled in panic, his world narrowed down to the whistling sound of his own lungs failing him. _Congestive heart failure. I'm going to die._

He hears conversation happening over his head and tries to open his eyes, but they get stuck as he does and all he can see are the dim lights of the semi-finished part of the hospital. He tries speaking but all that comes out is a low, frightened, baby-animal noise of pain.

"Oh, sweetie." He feels Mrs. McCall's hand on his forehead, pushing his hair back. "You hang in there, alright? Just hang in there." 

Liam wishes his own mom was here. They don't always get along but he wishes she was here - and his step dad. He wants to tell Brett to call them, but remembers they're in Italy, plus he's choking on another cough.

He zones out, returns only when he hears the tail-end of Mrs. McCall's sentence, her gentle voice saying, "... keep him breathing." 

Liam fights his eyes to open, feels Brett stroking the side of his face, hears his voice, terrified, saying, "Keep breathing, Liam. Keep breathing." 

_I can't_. He manages to get his eyes open, swings them around to look for Brett and finds him front and centre in his vision. _I can't, it's too hard, there's not enough air, I'm drowning-_

_Help me-_

Brett's talking at him. "No," he snarls. "Don't you dare, Dunbar." The next thing Liam knows he's being hauled into a sitting position, supported by Brett's arms as Brett bends him forward and starts slamming his hand against Liam's back. "Liam, you need to keep coughing," he begs. "Just for a while. Mrs. McCall's gonna be back soon, you just need to keep coughing."

Liam tries to take a deep breath, steel himself to cough violently, but the next one isn't nearly as strong as he was hoping for. 

"Harder," Brett growls. "Liam, I will physically stick my fingers down your throat to clear it if you don't cough harder, so you may as well."

Liam would actually prefer that - it would give him a break, anyway, his lungs are exhausted from the effort - but he does as he's told and coughs hard enough to feel something move. He chokes on it, manages to get it into his mouth and splutters as it exits his mouth. Air touches his throat for what feels like the first time and he's gasping gratefully, trying to get as much in as possible before his throat closes over again.

He hears the door open, doesn't know who it is until he hears Mrs. McCall saying, "Alright, let's get started." 

"Don't we need to figure out what's going wrong?" Brett asks, leaning Liam back down against the pillows. 

"Brett, he's going into systemic organ failure," Mrs. McCall says. "I need you to work with me to save him or he's not going to make it, honey. Whatever it is they did to him, it's causing his body to shut down. The pulmonary edema is caused by kidney failure, and if it continues to happen he's going to end up with sepsis. If that happens and it gets to his heart he's going to die."

"So what do we do?"

"We're going to aspirate his lungs. I really need your help with this, okay? I need you to hold him down. I need to get a tube down his throat to remove the fluid in his lungs - that's the most urgent thing right now." 

"Okay." Liam feels Brett's hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. His heart is slamming against his chest, an animal clawing at the bars of a cage, its beat irregular and uncomfortable. He's wet all over his body, realises it's sweat. 

"Alright. Hold him down. He's going to struggle."

Liam doesn't feel like he can move his fingers, let alone struggle against Brett's massive weight, but as soon as the tube touches the back of his throat, he feels his chest arch up of its own accord. Brett forces him down and Liam chokes desperately as he feels the pipe sliding down.

"Alright, hold him still, keep him steady-"

A faint sucking noise fills the air. Liam notices the difference almost immediately - he starts to be able to draw breath easier, feels less lightheaded. There's more space in his lungs for air. He doesn't feel like he's suffocating anymore. 

_Is this what asthma feels like?_ He wonders vaguely.

"Okay. Easy, Liam. You're doing a great job." But the tube stays for another few minutes before it's withdrawn, triggering his gag reflex on the way out. He barely manages not to puke everywhere. 

"Head forward, Liam."

He obeys, feels an oxygen mask close around his face. He opens his eyes blearily, searching for Brett. He's there, standing as close to Liam as the bed will allow, his eyes red and tears snaking down his cheeks. 

"Hey,' he croaks. "Hey, you with us?"

Liam nods groggily. He's not fixed, though. There's still something wrong. The fluid might be out of his lungs but he feels almost just as bad as he did before, the difference being that he can breathe now. 

Brett pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Now what?" he asks Mrs. McCall shakily.

"We're moving him again," she says. "To a room this time. We need some privacy. He can breathe now but I've only treated the symptoms, not the cause."

"So you've - what? Bought him some time?"

"Exactly. And not a lot, judging by how he looks. Let's get him out of here." 

The bed moves again. He forces his eyes open to look at Brett, who's on his left side. He reaches vaguely for his hand. He's fucking terrified. He can't exactly express it like this, but he's scared. He knows he's dying. He can feel it. There's numbness spreading through his feet and calves, beginning to inch its insidious way up his thighs. 

Brett looks at him, takes his hand and keeps wheeling the bed. "Hey," he says.

"I'm scared," Liam moans. 

That's not what he meant to say, but it's what comes out nonetheless. Brett looks like Liam's breaking his heart.

"I know. But we're gonna get you fixed up."

They come to a stop soon after, and Mrs. McCall stops briefly to check his pulse. "I need to get an IV set up," she says. "Get him out of his clothes. We might be here a while."

Brett makes quick work of his shoes and jeans and rips his shirt off, begins putting him in the hospital-issue gown he's handed. He leaves Liam's boxers on.

"Okay, Liam." Mrs. McCall's voice is a soft blur at the edges of his hearing. "I'm putting an IV port in your hand. There's going to be a bit of a sting."

"An IV?" Brett's voice is louder than Mrs. McCall's, easier to track. "Why?"

"He lost a lot of fluid from the pulmonary edema," she says quietly. Liam wonders hazily if she's keeping her voice down on his account. "We need to keep him hydrated and get his electrolyte levels back up."

He feels a slap on the back of his hand, then the sharp, brief pain of a needle sinking into his vein. 

"Why isn't he healing?" Brett sounds so afraid Liam wants to comfort him, but he can't get his eyes open, let alone speak. 

"You said he was pumped full of black liquid used on the chimeras. Liam isn't a chimera. His body may not be able to handle whatever it was. It's rejecting it." Mrs. McCall's hand on his forehead is soothing. She's a good mom. Liam kind of wishes his own was here, but she's probably in Italy with his stepfather. 

"But that was ages ago." Brett's stroking his arm. "He was getting better-"

"You said the Doctors injected him again, right? It overdosed him," Mrs. McCall says. "If the IV doesn't help him to start healing, we're going to have to pump his stomach, see what's in there. If it's in his bloodstream we'll have to wait for it to leave."

"And if it doesn't?" 

Liam wants to tell Brett not to snap at her; she's doing her best and the needle in the back of his hand barely hurt at all. She's a good nurse. Liam feels safe here, although he kind of wishes Scott was here too.

"If it doesn't leave his bloodstream and he gets worse I'm going to try dialysis," she says. "And if he still doesn't improve, I'm going to call his parents." The last part is said softly, like she doesn't want to think about it. "Brett, I promise I'll do anything I can to save him. But he's not doing well at all. His vitals aren't good."

"So - so what's the plan?" There's a plea in Brett's voice. "We can't let him-"

"I know." Her voice is soothing. "I'm going to give him another ten minutes or so to show some improvement and get this IV fluid into his system. Then I'm going to see if I can pump his stomach. Depending on what we find, I'm going to try to get him to take activated charcoal - it'll make him sick and get any poison out of his stomach. Then I'm going to put him on dialysis if I have to, which will keep us all here for about three or four hours." 

"If we fix him up enough, his healing should take over," Brett croaks. 

But Liam's feeling worse. He doesn't know how to tell them, but his heart seems like it's slowing down even though he can hear the desperate whistling of air in his windpipe as he tries to catch his breath. He's freezing.

Brett, at least, seems to notice he's cold, because he pulls up the blankets and rubs Liam's arm gently. He's careful not to bump the IV port.

"I'm going to get the equipment I need," Mrs. McCall says softly. "Stay with him."

Liam hears the door open and close. Brett shifts, leans forward, lines his arm up to rest along Liam's and strokes the back of his head.

"I've got you," he whispers. "It's okay. I've got you." 

What if he does die and his parents aren't here? What if his pack isn't here - what if they're already gone because of the Dread Doctors? Is he ever gonna see Mason again? He doesn't want to die without his best friend here. 

"Call Mason," he mumbles. He hopes Brett hears because there's no way he can say it again. The lights behind his eyelids are blurry, slow-moving, like amoebas in an aquarium tank. He didn't think this is what dying would feel like.

He didn't think he'd have time to feel it at all.

"Mason? You need to get to the hospital. It's Liam. He's - no, we're doing everything we can, Mrs. McCall's trying to bring him back. But he's - just get here. You need to get here." Brett sounds like he's drowning. A whole different part of Liam hurts listening to him. 

He feels the bed sink as Brett sits on it, near his hips, and takes his hand. Brett's is fiercely warm where Liam's feels like ice, and he takes a moment to relish in the contrast before making an attempt to wrap his fingers around Brett's. His grip is loose, but he hopes it at least lets Brett know that he's conscious, that he's here, that he can hear every word he's saying.

"You'd better not check out." Brett's voice sound wet and congested. "We still haven't watched Guardians of the Galaxy, you stupid dork. You said you'd watch it with me." A rustling noise. "Mason's on his way. He'll be here soon. He'll - just hold on, okay, for a little longer?"

Does Brett think he's going to die too?

Brett's hand squeezes his again, gently. "You're not in any pain," he croaks, his voice breaking. "That's good. I'm glad you're not - I'm glad you're not hurting. Rest easy, okay? I've got you. I'm right here."

The door opens. He assumes it's Mrs. McCall, because no one else knows they're back here.

"I might need your help with this," she says to Brett. "I need to get the tube down his throat again. You might need to hold him down."

"He's not going anywhere."

Her voice is tender when she says, "Brett..."

"He told me to call Mason. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Don't think about it," she orders. "We can't afford to think like that, not right now. I'm not done trying. Alright, can you roll him onto his back for me? Gentle."

Brett shifts him onto his back, so gently Liam barely feels the change in position. He feels like he's floating independently of the bed, like everything beyond his own body has dropped away into nothingness and there's just... space.

"Alright. Prop his jaw open. That's it. You might need to hold him still for this bit, alright? He might squirm. Liam, I'm going to put the tube in now, okay? Try to hold still."

He feels the tube against his tongue, then prodding at the back of his throat, and then slipping inside. He gags when he feels it slide down a passage he didn't even know was there, next to his windpipe. 

"Good job, Liam." Mrs. McCall is murmuring to him like he's a wounded animal. "Good job. Hold tight, okay? I'm hoping this will make you feel a little better." 

"Why's he crying? He's not in pain-"

"This procedure can cause a patient's eyes to water. It's a normal reaction."

Brett's phone rings. "It's Mason," he says. "Where are we?"

"Go get him," Mrs. McCall says. "Liam will be alright for the next few minutes. I'm still feeding the tube into his stomach."

There's a long pause. Then Brett says, "I'll be back soon, Liam, I promise."

Liam's not worried. Brett wouldn't leave. 

The next few minutes are a blank blur of uncomfortably pushing and pulling on the tube in his throat, Mrs. McCall stroking his hair as she feeds it deeper. He barely registers when the door clatters back open.

Brett's straight back at his side, but Mason's hesitated - Liam knows because he can't hear him moving. "What are you-"

"I'm pumping his stomach," Mrs. McCall says. "Brett, can you roll him back onto his side? Mason, come sit with him. It's okay. Right here."

Liam feels Mason sit at his back, effectively propping him upright once he's turned on his side. "Liam, I'm going to be filling this tube with saline, okay? It might be cold."

He appreciates being kept in the loop even though he can't really respond. Likes that Mason and Brett are here. Would like it if his parents and pack could be too, but this is alright. Good, even. He's okay.

Five minutes later, his stomach feels like an ice block has been dropped inside it and is refusing to melt. He shivers, and Brett pulls the blankets up over his waist. 

"What is that?" Mason asks shakily.

"That's the same stuff he was getting sick with at Sinema," Brett says. "We had to make him vomit that time too. He didn't do it himself."

"How did you do it?" 

"I stuck my fingers down his throat."

"Well, we won't have to do that today. Onto his back - that's it. I'm going to get this tube out, then we're going to give him activated charcoal."

"What does that do?" Mason asks.

"It's going to make him sick. If he won't vomit on his own, this will make him do it."

He feels the tube being pulled out and tries to suppress his gag reflex. Mason is rubbing his shoulder gently, trying to soothe him. He's glad Mason's here. 

The stomach pump has returned enough strength to him for him to open his eyes briefly, blearily, catching sight of Brett and Mason's blurry, half-formed faces, almost indistinguishable from the dark backdrop of the hospital room.

"Hey," Brett says softly. 

Liam barely croaks out "hi" before the oxygen mask is back over his face and Mrs. McCall is leaving the room. Liam shuts his eyes, but finds it impossible to doze off; he's in too much discomfort and he's too afraid anyway. 

"Liam," Mrs. McCall says softly. He didn't even notice her come back. He lifts his head to look at her groggily. 

"I need you to try and drink this," she says softly. "Okay?"

Liam looks down, recoils when he sees the black slush in the cup. He knows it's meant to help but it looks like poison and he wants it nowhere near his mouth. 

"Come on, sweetie," she says, brown eyes pleading with him. "Otherwise it's another tube down your throat and I don't want to have to do that again." 

Liam nods, finally, because yeah, he doesn't want that either. Brett helps him hold the cup. At least it doesn't smell like anything in particular. He grimaces when it hits his tongue, though - it's foul, metallic, gritty as it coats his teeth and his tongue. He forces it down anyway. 

He attempts to pull away, but Mrs. McCall pushes the cup closer again. "All of it, sweetie," she murmurs sympathetically. "That's the only way it's going to work." 

It doesn't take long, after finishing the drink, for his stomach to be in knots. He gives himself over completely to the discomfort he's feeling and curls up on his side, eyes shut, breathing heavily. He knows they're trying to help him, but he's in pain and overwhelmed and doesn't want any of them to touch him, or come near him with any more medical procedures or tubes or drugs. 

He feels the nausea rise up and struggles upright, leaning over the edge of the bed. Mrs. McCall's got a basin under his face within seconds, but the most he chokes up is some of the poison the Doctors injected him with.

"How long does this last?" Mason asks.

Liam feels his stomach gripped by another round and stays leaning over the basin, shivering miserably. He feels like his muscles aren't his own; he's too fatigued to move them on his own, and they're possessed by whatever automatic response his nervous system is forcing him to perform. His head is spinning. Mason's hand is on his back, like fire against his own cold skin.

"Not long," Mrs. McCall murmurs. Liam wants to tell her he's too tired to throw anything else up and that she should get on with doing whatever else it is she has planned, but she seems to realise it the same time he does. "I don't think he's going to be able to get anything else up," she says quietly. "He's weak. We'll stay here until he's over the retching and then we're going to take him to get dialysis. It should take the strain off his kidneys."

Liam's exhausted by the time the dry heaving is over, shaking violently. Brett's rubbing his back softly. Mason's somewhere in his general vicinity, but he doesn't know where, exactly. 

When he's done trying to puke his stomach up, Brett helps him lie back and puts the oxygen mask back over his face. Liam wonders vaguely if he even needs it anymore.

"Alright," Mrs. McCall says. "I want to get him down to dialysis. Can you boys help me wheel the bed?"

He feels his bed move, winces when the brightness behind his eyelids increases tenfold and knows they must be in the hallway. He raises an arm to try and cover his eyes, but it pulls on the IV and he drops it again, confused. 

The world goes dark; someone's put a cold cloth across his eyes and forehead. It's soothing; the section of hospital they're in is the same half-finished one Hayden was in earlier, and it's quiet, and with the towel over his eyes, he feels like he could go to sleep.

He raises his head a little, not really sure what he's trying to achieve until he realises he's too afraid to go to sleep in case he doesn't wake up. He can't keep his neck up, though, and soon enough his head thumps helplessly back against the pillow. 

"Are you with us, Liam?"

He nods groggily, still unable to speak even though he can feel his muscles contracting as he tries. He figures as long as they've got an answer it doesn't matter if it's verbal.  
He tilts his head, managing to dispose of the cloth on his face, blinks his eyes open, forces them to stay that way. Everything is blurry. He might not be able to lift his head, but if he can get his eyes open and keep them that way-

"Good." Mrs. McCall is pushing his bed - she looks relieved, concerned. "You're gonna be just fine, sweetie," she says as she looks down at him tenderly. "We're going to put you on dialysis and get you fixed up." 

"Will that hurt him?" Brett's voice. Brett's here; Liam remembers that now. His hand scrabbles against the mattress, looking for Brett's hand, something or anything, to hold onto. 

"It won't hurt him." Mrs. McCall brushes Liam's forehead briefly. "It's a simple procedure. We'll feed two needles into his elbow. One will filter his blood through the dialysis machine. The other will return it to him. He can even sleep." She notices Liam's hand searching for purchase. "Brett, honey, hold his hand," she says softly. "Go on. He's scared."

He hears movement to his left and finally, Brett's fingers close around his, giving him a light squeeze. His hand is hot and dry - Liam doesn't remember Brett's hands feeling like this, but then, he's the one who's dying so it's probably him.

"Talk to him." Mrs. McCall's voice is right above his head. "Say something to him. He can hear you." 

"What about?" Brett's voice is shaking. "I don't-"

"Anything, honey. It'll help just to hear your voice. Doesn't matter what you say." 

They come to a stop. Liam hears a slight click, thinks that it sounds like a button. He's struggling to keep his eyes open again. 

"Liam."

He blinks. Brett's close by, to his left somewhere; he feels like he realised that already. He turns his head, searching, finally catches sight of Brett standing at his side. He looks like he's been crying; his eyes are puffy and red.

Liam squeezes his hand feebly, because he wants Brett to know that it really doesn't hurt anymore, that he's not in pain - that Mrs. McCall is doing her best and it's working. 

Brett looks down at him, mouth slightly open and blonde curls bouncing limply against his forehead. "Hey," he whispers. "Hey."

Liam startles as he hears a loud beeping noise nearby; the bed is pushed forward a few feet, only to stop again. Elevator. They're going to a different part of the hospital. 

"Don't worry about that." They're stationary again, and Brett picks up the wet cloth lying next to Liam's face. "Just stick with us, yeah? It's okay." He's wiping at Liam's face and neck; the cool touch is soothing, and Liam wants so badly to close his eyes. 

Liam still can't speak, but he squeezes Brett's hand, then rotates his head to look at Mason, who's on his other side. Mason looks freaked out, both hands on the rails of the hospital bed, staring down at him. When he sees Liam look, he moves a hand to touch his forearm. 

"Hey, dude," he says.

Liam yawns. He is pretty tired. He'd like to sleep during the dialysis, maybe.

"Hey," Brett says. "Stay awake, Li. If you don't I might never watch Guardians of the Galaxy with you. And you promised me you would. Besides, me keeping you awake now is just payback for all those times you woke me up at seven or eight in the morning just because you were bored. This is karma, Liam. You brought this on yourself."

"He's begging you to watch Guardians as well?" Mason's voice seems further away than Brett's, but Liam's honed in to listen to Brett's, hoping to stay awake long enough to survive the night. 

"Every day," Brett says. "Says I'm basically Drax."

"Drax?" Mason's face appears over him, peering down at him with a judgmental expression. "You serious, dude? He's more like Groot."

"Okay, you know what, I'm tired of being compared to fictional characters I know nothing about. Screw both of you." Liam focuses on Brett's eyes, right above him, blue and glossy. "I can't believe I'm actually playing your nursemaid," Brett says, giving Liam's neck and collarbones another wipe down. "This isn't what I signed up for."

"Neither of us need to know what you signed up for," Mrs. McCall says. Liam would probably laugh if he could. He wants to ask Brett where the little outfit he was promised is. 

"We're almost there," Mrs. McCall says softly. "Keep talking, but you don't need to keep him awake anymore. In fact, it might be easier on him if he's asleep for this part."

He slips into a light doze, wakes when Mrs. McCall says, "Pinch, Liam," and feels two pinches in his elbow. They don't hurt though. He's already feeling sort of better.

He loses track of time, listens to the quiet murmuring of Brett and Mason over his head until he's strong enough to open his eyes. He's surprised when they stay open with minimal effort, even more surprised that his vision is clear and bright, like a high-definition television.

Mrs. McCall notices it first. "Liam?" she asks kindly. "Are you with us?"

He nods unsteadily. Mason's hand is on his shoulder. "Is he gonna be okay?" he asks.

Mrs. McCall takes her stethoscope from around her neck. "Let's have a look at you," she murmurs. "Cold touch, Liam."

His reflexes are sharp enough for him to want to pull away from the freezing pad of the stethoscope on his chest. She remains there for a minute, listening intently. Liam notices Brett's hand on the back of his neck and turns his head to look at him. He feels like he's moving in slow motion, processing things very slowly, five minutes behind everyone else.

"Okay." Mrs. McCall removes the stethoscope. "That's good, Liam. I'm gonna take your temperature, alright?" She has the same compassionate, soothing brown eyes as her son, Liam's alpha, his friend, and he lets himself drown in them for a moment before closing his eyes.

"Hey," she says. "I know you're sleepy but I want you to stay with me for a moment, okay?"

"'Kay," he rasps. He opens his eyes again, then lifts his head off the pillow because he knows he's going to fall asleep again if he doesn't. 

"How're you feeling?" Mrs. McCall asks as she prepares a thermometer. She turns his head gently to the side, brushes his hair back, and puts it in his ear.

"Tired," he croaks.

"I know, sweetie. Do you want any water?"

"Um - yeah." Mason and Brett being so silent is kind of freaking him out. Mason's holding his hand, now, and Liam squeezes it to try and get his attention. 

Mason seems to shake himself out of his stupor. "Hey, man," he says. "How're you doing?"

"Okay," Liam whispers. "Better." Full sentences are too much of a challenge with his throat this raw, so he's thankful when Brett comes back with a cup of water, tilts his head to get the straw in his mouth. Mrs. McCall takes the thermometer out of his ear when it beeps. 

"Does anything hurt?" she asks. Her voice is measured.

Liam lifts his arm a little. "These."

He's talking about the two needles in his elbow, which are now throbbing.

"They've gotta stay, sweetie." She says it sympathetically. "You seem more alert."

He nods and it doesn't make the room spin. "I feel better." It's his first real sentence in a while, and he jumps a little as he feels Brett rest his forehead against Liam's shoulder. 

"Brett?"

"He's been worried," Mrs. McCall says kindly. "You can sleep if you want, Liam." 

He shakes his head, turns his head to face Brett. "I'm okay," he croaks. "I'm fine." He lifts his arm again. "This is working."

Brett blinks at him. His eyes are red, the bags beneath them blue and purple, bruised with ruptured blood vessels and exhaustion. "Are you sure?"

He's sure. He can feel strength stealing back into him with every passing moment. "I'm sure." He's fatigued, though, wants to sleep for a month, maybe two. 

"Get some sleep, Liam," Mrs. McCall says softly. "We aren't going anywhere."

Liam nods, closes his eyes, and drifts off.

~*~

Liam's not unconscious, exactly, when he hears footsteps.

He doesn't know what's happening at all, comes around from a semi-conscious state with fire in his veins and pain pulsating in his side. He's injured, can feel the blood seeping out of him, but he doesn't remember how he ended up that way, or where he is, really.

The footsteps bring him back into alertness and he rolls onto his side, whimpering a little when the movement disturbs his arm - oh, yeah, tube, right - and his side, doesn't particularly register that these aren't the thudding, mechanical footsteps of the Doctors. 

The Doctors. That's why he feels so crappy, why he's cold and lying on the ground. The Doctors have him. And Hayden-

He registers two blurry human shapes in his vision, and one of them is blonde and he picks up a familiar scent-

"Brett," he breathes. The wave of relief that crashes over him almost paralyses him. Brett's here. He'll get both of them out of this fucking mess. 

Brett doesn't say anything but he's rushing over and Liam says his name again, but his veins are on fucking fire with whatever's being pumped into him and he's only not writhing around like a worm impaled on a fishhook because he physically can't. 

Then Brett touches the skin on his neck, and the pain dulls exceptionally, enough for Liam to wriggle a bit. Something's coming back to him, now - Brett isn't supposed to be here, but he can't remember why. Something's wrong.

Brett and Theo are talking above his head, and the next thing he's really aware of is Brett talking his ear off and pulling on the brace around his arm. 

He's not good when he stands up, really not good - the tube might be out but he can feel that the damage has been done. His skin feels like it's crackling while he walks even though he's drenched in sweat and the pain in his side is radiating outwards, hot and uncomfortable and Liam knows enough to know it's bad. But he walks when Brett tells him to, follows the blur of Theo's back.

He feels like he can't breathe. He can hear his own breath whistling desperately through his windpipe but can feel that the air isn't really reaching his lungs - his breathing is shallow and his vision's getting steadily darker and foggier. And he still can't remember what happened.

"Stop," Brett says.

Liam halts immediately, relieved for the reprieve. "Theo," Brett says, "we need to stop for a minute." 

Liam feels something wet on his upper lip, dully notices Theo's startled expression when he looks at him, touches his nose. His fingers come back red. Nose bleed. 

Brett's letting him sit down now, sponging at his face gingerly with a cloth. The reprieve doesn't last nearly long enough; before he's had a chance to fully recover, Theo's saying, "we can't stay here any longer. They're going to come back."

Liam's kind of hoping Brett advocates for him here, explains that Liam's too dizzy to stand, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts pulling Liam upwards. There's another conversation - Liam does his best to keep his feet underneath him - and then Brett's leaning down to his level.

"I'll carry him," he announces stonily.

Liam looks up, shakes his head - Brett needs to be able to protect himself, not worry about him - but Brett's already moving to hoist him upright so he cooperates, barely noticing when he's finally in Brett's grasp and they're moving.

"You're gonna be fine," Brett says. "We got you out." Liam knows they were talking before that, but the details sort of elude him, and he's not really conscious of anything again until they're in the car and the pain is so bad he wants to vomit or pass out or just fucking scream. He swallows, he doesn't want to puke on Brett or in Theo's car, that would be pretty inconsiderate-

"Liam?" 

He opens his eyes and something must give him away because Brett looks pretty worried. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Where's it hurt?"

Liam's confused - he doesn't feel safe here but he doesn't know why, and he doesn't know why the Doctors let him go, and he's barely conscious of where he is or even who he's with, his whole body feels like it's burning up from the inside and he says, "Everywhere, Brett, please-" without even really meaning to.

He sleeps for a bit, wakes up when Brett shakes him a little, and steps out of the car only to vomit everywhere. At least he managed to hold off until he was back at Scott's. He feels more aware, but he's hazy as he's lead inside and put on the table, then stitched up.

_I hope Brett's okay_. His hip and shoulder, where they're pressed into the table, ache. _He must be tired. And worried._

Brett's pulling back the blanket over him, looking at what Liam assumes is his wound. "How's it look?" he mumbles.

"Better, now that it's stitched up. I wanna try cleaning it up a bit, though." 

_Brett's a great boyfriend_ , Liam thinks hazily as Brett cleans his side gently. _I would probably just be losing my mind and yelling at everyone to do something_.

Brett somehow gets him to the couch - Liam's very vaguely aware of asking Brett if he's okay - and coaxes him into swallowing a couple of pills and some water. He leaves for a bit, and Liam's joined by Theo.

He wants to get up and move but he told Brett he wouldn't. Theo makes him nervous. He can't remember why. Or maybe it was always like this. There are huge holes in his memory, and he half-hopes he never remembers what they did to him down there.

The door opens, and Brett's back, carrying his lacrosse hoodie. Liam's brain gives a resounding _oh God, yes_ , when Brett says, "Here," and hands it to him, following it up with, "I thought you might be cold." 

"I am." He didn't know until now, though; he pulls the hoodie on and his wolf settles under Brett's scent, heavy and comforting around him. "Thanks," he says. "For helping me."   
Brett's expression is unexpectedly tender. "I wasn't going to leave you," he says quietly.

_Mostly everyone else has_ , Liam thinks groggily, letting Brett move him until he's lying down. And really, Brett's put up with a lot of shit from him. The I.E.D, the withdrawals from his medication, now him being fucking kidnapped of all things. And he's still here. 

Liam wants to tell him just how grateful he is but his eyes are slipping shut, even with those vague notions of bad memories tugging at the edges of his consciousness. 

He tries calling them back to him, before he can really forget, but Brett's kissing his forehead softly and then saying, "Go to sleep, dork. I'll still be here when you wake up," and that's all Liam needs to know before his eyes close and his consciousness flickers away, taking those memories with it.

~*~

A slow, annoying beeping is the first thing he's conscious of when he wakes.

He opens his eyes blearily, and the first thing he sees is his own arm stretched out on the bed in front of him, covered almost completely in a web of tubes, wires, tape and needles. Dialysis, he remembers. His blood, in the tubes, seems more black than red.

An IV is fed into the back of his other hand, and there's a heart-rate monitor on his finger. He's warmer than he can remember being in a long time, wonders if he's getting better or whether this is his last few good moments before it all goes to shit. 

He moves a little, his muscles groaning with the effort. He can't have been asleep long; he could've sworn he heard Mrs. McCall say something about dialysis only taking three or four hours, and he's still here, so...

So... what? Where is everyone? He lifts his head, looking around blearily; he can't see any of them, feels his heart rate jump up - Brett wouldn't ever leave him like this, so what-

"Hey."

Brett's voice is so tender it almost doesn't sound like him. Liam turns his head to look behind him, finds that Brett's spooned up against him, his arm under Liam's head and his other wrapped loosely around his waist. He looks tired, but happy. How did Liam not notice he was there?

"Hi," Liam croaks. 

Brett moves his arm from Liam's waist and strokes his hair. "How're you feeling?"

Liam still bone-tired, feels weak and shaky and like he's recovering from a major surgery or illness. But he doesn't feel sick anymore, and his head only hurts a little bit.

"Better." His voice comes out a croak, and he clears his throat. "How long have I been asleep?" He lifts his head a little, blinks groggily. "It's hard staying awake," he admits finally.

"Two hours," Brett says. "Mrs. McCall gave you a sedative - you weren't healing at the time so it worked for a bit. She said your body can't remove the poison itself, not by filtering it through your kidneys, so you're going to have to keep coming back until it's all gone. She thinks the supermoon triggered it - that this was going to happen the next time you tried to shift." Liam kind of tunes out to a lot of that, because he's still sleepy and Brett's warm; he snuggles up closer, doesn't care if anyone else sees.

"Aren't you cramped?" he mumbles. The bed is barely long enough for him, so Brett's extra height must make it uncomfortable.

"Nah." Brett shrugs. "You were cold. Couldn't get you warm enough with blankets so I got up here with you."

Liam smiles sleepily. "Thanks."

"You're warm now?"

"Uh huh." Liam yawns. "Did you sleep?"

"A little," Brett says. "After you settled down Mason and I both did."

"Where's Mason?"

"He's napping in a different room," Brett says. "He said we could take turns but... he's wiped out and I didn't want to leave you."

Liam's glad he didn't. He would've freaked out if he'd woken up alone in here. 

"Want anything?" Brett asks. "Mrs. McCall brought some food in about fifteen minutes ago."

Liam nods. He's not really hungry but he knows eating will help keep his strength up. Brett slides out from under him and moves to the side of the room, retrieving the trolley and sliding it over so the tray sits across Liam's legs. 

"Can you sit?" he asks.

He doesn't want to - he's comfortable here, not hurting for what seems like the first time in a long time, curled up on his side with his arm stretched out and surrounded by blankets and pillows. But he knows he needs to eat, so he nods, using his good arm to lever himself up. The bed is already on an incline, so all he really has to do is slide himself up. The bed is haphazard, pillows strewn across it and blankets rumpled in every direction. Brett tucks a pillow into the small of his back. 

"How's your arm?"

Liam looks at it. "It doesn't hurt," he says. "It's annoying though. All the tubes."

"Move over," Brett says.

Liam shuffles over on the mattress, allowing Brett to get back onto the bed. He settles Liam's arm in his lap and slings his own around Liam's shoulders. Liam shivers; there's a draft on his back and he's just realised he's wearing a hospital gown. He blushes.

"Don't worry," Brett says. "You're still in your boxers. It was just in case."

"Oh." Liam shivers again, and Brett rubs the bare, exposed skin of his back. 

Liam lifts the lid off the tray, and steam wafts out, revealing vegetables and soup, along with some juice and jell-o. Liam's not really a big fan of soup but he doesn't know if he'd really be up for anything else, so he digs in. His hand shakes with the first few mouthfuls, but after a while, it stops. 

Brett lets him eat for at least five minutes before starting up a conversation. "Tell me honestly," he says softly, "how are you feeling?"

Liam swallows his mouthful of soup and puts the spoon down. "Okay," he says. "I'm not dying anymore. I guess it's just - like recovering from the flu, or from surgery. I know I'll be fine, I just don't feel fine right now."

Brett nods. "Does anything hurt?"

"No," Liam says honestly. "The needles ache a bit. But nothing really hurts." 

"Good." Brett smiles. "Soup good? It smells nice."

"I don't like soup much." Liam shrugs. "It's okay though. Have some if you want." 

"It's yours," Brett says.

Liam frowns at him. "You've been here just as long as I have and I bet you haven't eaten," he says. "Besides, I can't finish all this. Have some. Let me eat the jell-o."

"Of course you pick the most unhealthy thing on the tray to move on to," Brett remarks, taking a mouthful of soup. "This is good!" he says. "And everyone likes soup."

"I like chewing my food, not drinking it," Liam says, surprised when Brett laughs. He seems like he's in a good mood, which Liam finds strange. The last twenty four hours have been nothing but terror and grief for everyone involved. "You're in a good mood," he says. 

Brett shrugs. "You're alive," he says. "I thought..."

I thought you were going to die. The words hang in the air, unspoken but understood, and Liam nods. He supposes that seeing as five hours ago Brett was sure he'd die and that everyone else was falling apart and the body count was only growing higher, having Liam alive must feel pretty good. 

"Yeah," Liam says. "You can't get rid of me." 

"I don't want to." Brett presses a gentle, tender kiss to his temple. Liam sighs, closing his eyes and leaning into Brett's solid, stable frame. "Hey," Brett says. "If you're tired, go back to sleep. The food will still be here when you wake up again."

"I'm not hungry," Liam admits. "Just thought I should eat something." He doesn't feel tired, exactly, either; something isn't right, but it's not lack of sleep. He leans more heavily against Brett's side; he doesn't have a scrap of energy to pretend he's alright. 

"If you lie down I'll lie with you," Brett offers.

Liam smiles at him tiredly. "I'll lie down," he says, just to make Brett happy, "but you should finish the food. You've gotta be starving." 

Brett narrows his eyes. "Alright," he says finally. Liam knows Brett's agreeing to eat the food to get Liam to lie down as much as Liam's agreeing to lie down to get Brett to eat. He leans back, tucking himself up against Brett's side, and closes his eyes.

He doesn't sleep - doesn't even doze - as Brett finishes the food, then begins to shift, painstakingly slowly, out of the bed, trying to stay quiet.

"I'm not sleeping," Liam says. "Don't worry about making noise."

"Could've fooled me." Brett moves the tray, setting it to the side on the table near Liam's bed, takes the pillow out from the small of his back and helps him lie down without disturbing the needles in his arm. "Comfy?" he asks, sitting back in the chair near Liam's bed.

"Yeah." Liam yawns. "I'm warm. Nice change." 

"I'd hope you're warm, you've got about a thousand blankets piled on top of you," Brett says with a slight smile. "Go back to sleep. You're here for at least another two hours, so you might as well rest." 

"What're you gonna do?" Liam asks tiredly. 

Brett shrugs. "I don't know. There's a TV in here. Maybe I'll watch." He notices Liam fighting to keep his eyes open. "Hey, just go to sleep. Okay? You're all good. We'll be out of here before you know it, and you'll be back to kicking my ass in Mortal Kombat." 

"Don't practice while I'm asleep," Liam mumbles.

He hears Brett laugh softly. "Shut up and sleep, Liam." 

He wants to answer, but Brett's scent is enveloping him and he's warm and comfortable and hasn't ever been this exhausted in his life, so when his eyes slide shut, he falls asleep almost immediately. 

He'll be woken in two hours time anyway. It's not like he's going to miss anything.

~*~

There's electricity sparking nearby.

He's on his back, wet and cold, shoulder blades digging uncomfortably into the concrete. His arm throbs.

He rolls his head, catches sight of Hayden, lying on her stomach on an operating table with two of the Doctors standing over her. Her eyes are open, but blank.

"Hayden," he breathes.

He sees the glow of a machine in one of the Doctors' hands, waved over the back of her neck; they look at each other.

"Her condition worsens."

"No no no - no, don't hurt her." He's struggling, but he can't get up. Something's wrong with him, and he's not healing. "Don't-"

"I told you I needed more time!"

Liam flinches, because that voice is distinctly human - he knows that voice. It's familiar. His head is cloudy but he tries to place it. Familiar, but not well-known to him. Not trusted.  
The Doctors are speaking, but not in any language Liam knows. He sees human legs on the stairs, heading down towards him, but he still can't make out a face.

"And why the hell did you bring Liam as well?" The figure's closer, face blurry, and Liam yelps when they bury a foot in his side. "I told you-"

"He was in the way." Liam thinks if the Doctors could sound angry they would right now. 

"You couldn't have knocked him out?" The person kicks him again, and Liam gasps, feeling a rib shift somewhere in his chest. "This changes everything!"

The Doctors speak again. 

"You're meant to keep me in the loop, remember?" the voice says heatedly.

"Hayden," Liam moans. She's not moving, limp on the table. He tilts his shoulders, trying to roll onto his side - he might be able to get up from there - but the person kicks his chest when he tries, making him cough and splutter.

He hears them kneel down next to him, cries out when they grab his hair and yank his head back so sharply the bones in his neck and spine crackle with the force. 

"Liam, shut up," he says.

Liam takes in the perfectly coiffed, short hair, the stubble on his cheeks, the light blue of his eyes. "Theo," he says. 

"Nothing personal, Liam," Theo says. "You're just in the way." 

"No," Liam moans. "What are you-"

"You weren't part of the plan, Liam," Theo says. "I didn't expect to find you here. Didn't think Scott actually had the guts to create a beta. You're a problem."

Liam tries drawing breath; he's winded from where Theo kicked him. "You were at Sinema," he says.

"Yeah. That was me. I planned on getting rid of you, but Brett and Mason interfered before I got the chance." Theo's smiling. He's fucking smiling and God, Brett's going to be looking for him, they're all going to be looking for him and they're walking into a trap-

"Leave them alone," he croaks. 

Theo smiles at him again, but it's unhinged. "I hope Brett and Mason come looking for you," he says. "Scott too. See, they aren't part of my plan, Liam. I didn't come for them."

Hayden still isn't moving. Liam groans and shifts; Theo jerks his head back again.

"I came for you," he hisses. "Even though you weren't part of the plan. The beta with anger issues, right? I came for Lydia, the banshee. For Void Stiles, who has no problem killing. I came for Malia, whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the dark kitsune inside Kira. Perfect true-alpha Scott? Mason, your useless, human best friend? Your pitiful Buddhist boyfriend? They aren't part of that plan, Liam."

He lets Liam go, stands up. 

"They're gonna figure it out!" Liam yells. "They're going to work you out-"

"Scott already trusts me," Brett says. "And the rest will."

"I'll tell them-"

"Tell them what?" Theo's heading back to him, a syringe in his hand. Liam struggles where he is but there's nowhere to go even if he could get up.

"What're you gonna tell them, Liam?" Theo says. "When you aren't going to remember anything?"

"No," Liam says, trying to scramble away. "No, Theo, don't-"

He hears the thundering footsteps of the Doctors behind him, yells when one of them grips his shoulders, pulls his head to the side to expose his neck. "No," he yells. "Theo-"

"This is gonna hurt, Liam," Theo says, then plunges the syringe into his neck. 

Liam howls when he feels the solution inside coursing into his bloodstream, like it's fire, ice so hot it burns, racing around his body and filling him up, poisoning him. He's gripped by convulsions, writhes on the floor in agony until he hears Theo walking away.

He has to warn the others. Has to let them know, can't let Theo hurt them-

If he can howl, really howl, like a wolf, they'll find him. He can warn them before he forgets-

It's just building in his throat when Theo notices what he's doing; his expression is black with fury. "I don't think so, Liam," he hisses, striding forward. "You don't seem to be getting the point here - I drugged you. It was me. You should've died. And I have no problem killing you right here. You aren't going to interfere."

The world goes red as Liam's eyes change colour, golden, as his fangs descend over his regular human teeth and he roars, challenging Theo to stop him - Theo's not going to hurt his pack while Liam stands back and watches-

Theo grabs his head again and slams it against the concrete. Liam sees stars, then nothing. 

~*~

"Brett, hold him down!"

Someone's howling; it takes Liam a moment to realise it's him, that he's struggling helplessly against whoever's holding him down. 

"Liam!" It's Brett's voice, yelling. "Liam, come on, cut it out-"

He opens his eyes. The room is spinning; he can't focus on anything. He's dizzy as he leans over the side of the bed to vomit, only just missing the floor when someone puts a basin underneath his face.

"I thought he was getting better!" Brett, again. "What's happening?"

"Liam, sit up, honey, come on." Hands on his shoulders, sitting him up. Liam opens his eyes, gasps for air, but he can feel that he's on the brink of a panic attack and can't bring himself back under control. 

"Liam," Brett says. "Liam, you need to breathe." 

Liam reaches out, grabs Brett's arm with his good one. "It was Theo," he gasps around desperate swallows of air. "It-"

"Slow down," Brett begs. "Catch your breath, it can wait-"

"No," Liam whimpers, can't get anything else out through the hyperventilating, feels tears running down his cheeks. It was Theo, the whole time, and he needs to tell them but he can't, he can't get the words out-

" _Liam_!" Brett growls. His eyes flash gold, fangs descended. And Brett's not his alpha, not even part of his pack, but it works - Liam's wolf gives a quiet whimper in the back of his head, not sure what it's done to warrant getting scolded, and submits.

Liam takes a deep, shuddering breath. "It was Theo," he pants weakly. "Brett, it was Theo, he was the one who drugged me, he's working with the Dread Doctors, he told them about our plan at the high school, he knew, that was how they found us-" 

Brett doesn't look like he understands anything Liam's saying. "What are you talking about?" he asks. "Theo helped me rescue you-"

"You don't trust him either!" Liam explodes. "He knew where I was because he'd been there before, he injected me with something, it made me forget - it was Theo." He's lightheaded; his vision blurs. "I'm telling you the truth," he insists feebly. "Why would I lie?" 

Brett nods. "Okay, okay," he says. "Just calm down. Calm down, okay?"

"You need to find my pack," Liam croaks. "Please, Brett. They could be in trouble-"

"I'll start calling," Mrs. McCall interrupts. "Brett, calm him down." 

"Where's Mason?" Liam asks as she leaves the room. "Is Mason okay?" 

"He left about fifteen minutes ago, said he was going to try and find Scott and let him know what happened to you," Brett says. "Liam, breathe deeper, okay? You need to breathe deeper. You're still on dialysis, you need to finish-"

Liam gives a short moan, lets his head drop forward onto Brett's shoulder. "It was Theo the whole time," he croaks. "He's going to kill you, Brett." He feels a few tears slip out of his eyes, blinks frantically to try and clear his vision. "He said you and Scott and Mason aren't part of the plan, he's going to kill you." 

"Liam," Brett says helplessly. He holds Liam's face, swiping tears away with his thumbs. "Liam, I'm right here. I'm not dead. I'm right here, I'm with you. We know now. Everything is gonna be fine." 

The only sound Liam can make is a noise of despair, deep in his chest. Brett pulls him in close, holding him, letting Liam's weight sag against his. Liam struggles to get his breathing under control, tries not to let the urge to sob take over him. He knows that'll make breathing deeply that much harder than what it already is, but he's barely hanging onto whatever shred of composure he has left.

"It was Theo," he moans helplessly.

"I know." Brett's shaken; Liam can smell his chemo-signals, afraid and wired to the ceiling. "I know, baby." That's the third time Brett's called him that. He doesn't mind; he's afraid and they're alone. "Look, we're gonna track him down, okay? We're gonna track him down and make sure he can't hurt anyone else."

" _He killed Hayden_." Liam feels another sob building up in his chest. "He killed her." 

Brett leans back from him. "Liam, try to get your breathing to slow down," he murmurs. "You'll feel better. You're still sick, you need to rest."

The door opens just as Liam's slowing his breathing down, and Mrs. McCall enters. Liam's heart drops at the look on her face. 

"I can't get onto any of them," she says. "I've tried all their cell phones, but nobody is answering."

"We need to go look for them," Liam says, struggling with the blankets.

"You aren't going anywhere," Mrs. McCall says, stunned as she pushes Liam back. "Liam, we only just got you out of the woods - your dialysis isn't finished and you're going to need more than one round to get all the poison out of your system. You won't be helping anyone by running off like this."

Liam looks at Brett, opens his mouth, but Brett says, "I'm not leaving you. Not like this."

"We need to find them," Liam pleads. 

"Sweetie, you've got ten minutes of dialysis left," Mrs. McCall says; her eyes, sympathetic and warm, are begging Liam to see reason. "Can it wait ten minutes?"

"They might not have ten minutes!" Liam says heatedly. "What if waiting ten minutes means they die?"

"Look." Brett readjusts on the bed. "You don't even really have any clothes here. I'll call Mason and ask him to bring you some. By then your dialysis will be over." 

Liam nods grudgingly; he knows that's the best he's gonna get, but he can't help but wonder if it's already too late - if they've already tried to let his pack mates know he's in the hospital and none of them have answered, does that mean they're already dead?

Brett comes back from calling Mason, sits down on Liam's bed. "He's gonna get you some clothes but he's almost at the school, so he's gonna check for people there first, yeah? If he's not here in half an hour we'll scrounge something up for you to wear and go." 

Liam nods. He's sort of trying to work out just how much better he is, physically - his legs aren't numb anymore but he's not entirely convinced he'll be walking with much confidence, and he's feeling kind of queasy. Still, he can't just sit around. He has to do something, and Brett can't go alone - he's freaking out that Mason is out there by himself as it is.

"Liam?" Brett asks softly.

"I'm fine," Liam says distractedly. "I just - can you hear that?"

Brett gives him a doubtful look, but Liam stares him down and strains his hearing. It's a faint vibrating noise, coming from somewhere nearby - but Liam's hearing is still kind of shitty and distorted, and he can't pinpoint where it is exactly.

Brett palms his pocket, where his phone is. "Not me," he says.

Liam sees his jeans, sitting in a crumpled heap on a metal table within reach, and the edge of his phone sticking out of them, the screen lit up.

He lunges for them, grabs his phone out, sees that it's Stiles and swipes to answer before he hangs up. "Stiles?" he demands.

"Liam!" It's definitely Stiles on the other end. "Liam, what the hell is going on? Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I couldn't." Liam swallows. "Stiles, where's-"

"I don't know where the others are," Stiles interrupts. "Listen, Theo just attacked me - he says he wants to kill Scott. He's working with the Doctors."

"I know," Liam says, relieved; Stiles knows. Stiles is smart, he can do something, he can help save everyone. "We've been trying to tell people but nobody's answering their phones," he says. "Have you been able to-"

"No, Liam, listen," Stiles says, talking over the top of him. "Theo and the Doctors, they let this thing loose. It attacked my dad and Hayden's sister. They did it. They perfected a chimera and now they've let it loose." 

A loud beep sounds in the room, and Mrs. McCall begins flipping switches on the dialysis machine. Stiles is still talking. "Liam, look, I can't go anywhere - my dad, he's-" Stiles' voice shakes. "He's hurt, I have to stay here. You need to find everyone." 

"Okay," Liam breathes. "I will." 

"And be careful. Scott already hates me, if you die he's going to kill me."

Liam's stomach lurches. "Scott doesn't hate you," he says. 

"Oh yeah? Look, not the point. Find them, Liam."

"I will." 

Stiles hangs up; Liam turns around to face Brett and Mrs. McCall. Brett looks worried; Mrs. McCall looks concerned.

"Look, this round of dialysis is done," she says. "I can let you out of here but not for long. You've got two hours. I want you back here by then, Liam." 

Liam nods. He can't believe she's letting him do this. Not without reservation, either, judging by the look on her face. 

"Liam," Brett says softly.

"I know it's a bad idea," Liam says. 

"Do you?"

"I'm not dumb," Liam responds.

"I know." Brett sighs. "You could stay here. Mason and I could go..."

"No," Liam says. "What if something happens?"

"That's why I want you here and not with us," Brett says softly. 

They stare at each other for a moment. Finally, Brett heads over to his bed, sits on the edge of it; the needles and wires are gone from Liam's arm, replaced by tape and miniature gauze pads to cover the needle sites. 

"I'm gonna lose my fucking mind if something happens to you," Brett says. "I mean it. I don't want you to go."

"I'm going," Liam says tiredly. "I have to. You can't convince me not to."

Brett looks tired. "Uh huh. Mason is on his way here with some clothes for you. I already called him. We'll go when he gets here."

Liam nods. 

"And if we see Theo," Brett says, "I don't care how much Scott will hate me for it - I'm going to rip his fucking throat out."


	13. Thirteen - Regrouping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Look who crawled out of author purgatory. I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE! This chapter was such a bitch to write. Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck around to keep reading and left words of encouragement! you can find me at www.lol-briams.tumblr.com. I rant about shit.
> 
> ENJOY! <3

**Chapter Thirteen - Regrouping**  
"So, it goes without saying that I think this is a terrible fucking idea, right?" Brett asks flatly.

Liam gives him a look. "Exactly." He's got his legs out of bed, and Brett can see that the puncture sites on his arm aren't healing and that he's shivering. But he's not going to say it again, because he and Mrs. McCall have both said it in the last five minutes, and seeing as Liam hasn't even been officially admitted to hospital, there's no one else to tell him otherwise. 

He doesn't want Liam there. He wants him at the hospital, where Mrs. McCall can keep him under supervision and on dialysis. But Liam's decided to go and so he's gonna go, and, well, Brett may as well be there to haul his ass back to the hospital when he inevitably needs it.

It goes without saying that Mason isn't back yet and they haven't heard anything from him, and Brett stupidly promised Liam they'd go if they didn't hear from him and really - what kind of fucked-up shit is that? That he's willingly taking Liam into a situation that could be dangerous when Liam couldn't even fight off Mrs. McCall's gently-administered medical care. 

In short, if shit is going down, they're monumentally screwed.

"You know," Brett says as they leave the hospital, "we just saved your life. I don't want you to die. And yet here we are."

Liam's shivering more violently now, pulling the scrounged-up hoodie tighter around his body. "Yeah, I don't wanna die either," he croaks. "But my pack-"

"I know. Where to first?"

"School. Isn't that where Mason said he was going?" 

"Yeah, but Liam, he hasn't called us or anything. If something is going down at the school - if Theo's there - he already tried to kill you once. Twice, actually."

"If something's happening I need to be there," Liam snaps.

"What good are you gonna be?" Brett asks incredulously. "You're about as strong as a newborn kitten. Look, I know you have to help somehow. I know. You know I get it. But maybe the best way for you to help is to stay out of it."

Liam looks at him. "I can't just stay out of it," he says. "I did that the whole first month after Scott bit me and all I did was get into trouble and need to be rescued. Things only got better once I started joining in on pack stuff. Scott didn't give up on me."

Brett says nothing. He knows about pack loyalty. God, does he ever. But he's not really sure Scott's earned Liam's loyalty; he's been absent the whole month and pinned Liam before, growled at them both. 

He had to have done something right, Brett reminds himself, considering Liam doesn't trust anyone.

"Okay," Brett says. "Fine. But we do this on my terms, okay?" He ignores Liam's sharp glare. "I mean it, Li. I think you're too sick or it's too dangerous and we go back. I'm not letting you die for Scott. Nobody would want that, but especially not him."

Liam's opening his mouth to argue when the roar of another car engine startles them both, and they stare as a car overtakes them, moving dangerously fast and swerving to get around them.

"Fuck me," Brett grumbles. "Does no one know how to drive around here?"

"That's Scott's mom's car," Liam says.

"Huh?"

"That's Mrs. McCall's car," Liam says, sitting up and suppressing a cough. He looks horrifically pale. "Go faster." 

And Brett does but only because the faster they get there, the faster he can turn around and get Liam back to the hospital and on dialysis and further and further away from the cusp of death. He doesn't give a shit if Liam hates him for it. He'd rather Liam alive and pissed off than dead and content. 

When they get to the school, Scott's motorbike is in the carpark - along with Mrs. McCall's car and Mason's. None of that can mean anything good, and Brett's heading for the school when he hears Liam cough. He turns - and Liam's still in the car, head bent forward, panting for breath.

"Liam," he says worriedly, heading back. "Seriously, just stay here. I'll go-"

"No," Liam coughs. He closes his eyes. "I'm just dizzy," he mumbles. 

"Because you nearly died," Brett snaps.

"Are you gonna help me or am I gonna do it myself?" Liam snaps back.

Well, Brett's not exactly fucking happy about it - and this is the closest to an argument they've ever had while actually together - but he helps, because he knows Liam will just do it himself if he doesn't chip in. 

He helps Liam up and stays close as Liam wobbles a bit, gains his footing, and starts towards the school. He hopes Liam's recovered enough to tell that he's pissed off about how this is playing out. 

"Liam," he begs. "Come on."

"I'm going."

So Brett jogs after him helplessly. Liam's doggedly keeping pace, even though he's panting and sounds kind of worn out and sick. 

Brett spies the broken line of mountain ash just before Liam steps over it, realises that this is probably why Scott hasn't been around; he couldn't get past the mountain ash. His mother or Mason must've broken the line. "Liam," he says. "Be careful. Stay behind me."

Liam mutters something but he falls back behind Brett and lets him go ahead. The school looks destroyed, with rubble lying everywhere and claw marks in the ground.

The sight that greets them in the library has Brett's heart and stomach plummeting rapidly. Mason's kneeling near the stairs and Mrs. McCall is screaming, sobbing, her words unintelligible.

"Scott," Liam says, pushing past Brett, nearly tripping and hurrying to Scott's side. "Scott-"

Brett stays back a bit, looks around, knowing that Theo may still be around. And, once he can't pick up a scent, he heads forward, kneels by Liam.

"How long has he been like this?" he demands of Mason.

Mason just shakes his head, which Brett supposes means it's been a long time, and Brett closes his eyes. Not Scott. They can't keep losing people like this. Hayden, Corey, now Scott... who else will the Dread Doctors and Theo take?

"Mrs. McCall," he says helplessly.

"Not him." She's pounding on Scott's chest, still crying. "He's an alpha. Not him. Not my son." 

Brett feels Liam's fingers wrap around his and holds back. His veins turn black at the contact; Liam's hurting again. Again or still - Brett's not convinced he stopped in the first place. 

" _Scott!_ " Mrs. McCall screams, bringing her hands down again.

Brett hears it before anything happens - the thunderous boom of Scott's heart starting again, everything firing back up to life. Then his eyes spring open, burning red, and the resulting roar shakes the roo, the windows, and every single one of them down to the core.

What the fuck. Brett's never heard of anything like this before, and his alpha is the oldest werewolf alive. He stares as Scott's eyes fade back, as he gasps for air - chokes for it, really - his hands gripping his mother's wrists on his chest.

"Scott?" Liam breathes.

Scott turns to look at Liam. The look of relief on his face tells Brett he cares deeply about Liam - probably had no idea he was in trouble. "Liam," he says. "You're alright."

"Yeah," Liam lies. "Are you-"

"I'm alive," Scott pants. "So I think I'm good. Yeah." He looks around. "Where are the others?" he asks weakly.

"I don't know," Liam asks. "Mase?"

"I don't either. I came here first," Mason says. 

"Stiles is at the hospital," Brett remembers. "His dad's been really badly hurt."

"Theo's with the Doctors," Liam says. 

"I know." Scott tries sitting up, gasps in pain, and lies back down. Brett puts his hand on Scott's arm, begins absorbing the pain so Scott can heal faster. "He did this," Scott croaks. "Liam, look, you have to find the others, okay? Lydia, Malia - they could be in trouble."

Brett stares at Scott, who has literally just come back from the dead, and then looks to Liam, who looks like he's on death's doorstep. He's got another hour before Liam needs to be back at the hospital.

But Liam looks bad now; his face is white and he's sweating bullets. Brett's not really convinced that hour is gonna help Liam much. He'd rather just get him back to the hospital and continue on his own.

"I will," Liam says shakily. "But what about you?"

"He'll be fine," Mrs. McCall says. "I'll take care of him. One hour, Liam."

Liam nods and starts getting to his feet, slowly. Brett helps him up, into the car, and turns to him.

"I'm taking you back," he says.

"I need-"

"Medical care!" Brett snaps. "You're sick! I'm taking you back to the hospital and then I'll go find your pack mates _for_ you." 

~*~

Liam argues and probably would've thrown a fit if he wasn't so exhausted, but ten minutes later they're back at the hospital, Brett's got Liam safely into the dialysis room and Mason's sitting nearby. He kisses Liam goodbye and tells Mason to call him if anything happens.

Liam's pretty pissed about getting left behind, but Brett doesn't care; he just wants Liam to be alright. If that means Liam being mad at him, fine. 

Malia finds him before he can find her - and she's immediately demanding to know what's happened to the rest of the pack, whether they're alright, and Brett has to tell her that Liam's kind of dying and Scott's kind of just come back from the dead and that Sheriff Stilinski is in hospital. When she asks if there's any good news, he stays silent, because he can't think of any.

She helps him track Lydia. He might've been born a werewolf, but Malia spent most of her life as a coyote, and she knows the woods intimately, plus has a better sense of smell.  
They find Lydia at the Nemeton. Brett swallows when he sees the stump; the tree would have been massive before it was cut down, and now, at the base, lie the dead bodies of the chimeras - and Lydia, trembling and whimpering and soaked through to the bone.

"Lydia?" Malia calls, alarmed, as she sprints over.

Malia gets to Lydia first, but Brett's distracted. Because Hayden and Corey died and Parrish took the bodies, but the bodies aren't here. In fact, there are five bodies missing, but others are still here. Brett's stomach turns. What the hell has Theo done?

"Lydia?" Malia asks desperately. She's got Lydia's head in her lap. "What happened?"

Lydia only whimpers; Malia looks at Brett. "What's wrong with her?" she demands.

"I don't know," Brett says, bending down to pick her up. "Come on. We should get her back to the hospital. Everyone else is there anyway." 

They don't talk on the way back. Lydia's shaking and whispering to herself but Brett can't understand what she's saying - only knows that she's snapped somewhere that might be irreparable. And now they're down how many members? Liam's sick, Scott's still healing, Stiles is with his dad, Kira's gone, and Lydia's insane. 

It sounds shitty, but Brett barely has the energy to care about the others; when he gets back to the hospital, about an hour after leaving it, Liam's lying on his side in bed, coughing and spluttering, his chin and mouth coated with black liquid. 

He sits down to stroke Liam's hair. "Hey," he murmurs.

Liam looks up at him; his eyes give away his exhaustion, and the coughing seems weak, like Liam's still trying to force the stuff out of his lungs but doesn't have enough strength to sustain the effort. "Did you...?"

"I found them," Brett says. "I'll tell you later."

Mrs. McCall enters at that point, comes over, and leans down so she can talk to Liam. "Liam," she says quietly. "I want to sedate you for this round of dialysis, okay?"

"Why?" Liam mumbles. "How's Scott?"

"So you can rest," Mrs. McCall says, "and so you're not uncomfortable. I won't do it if you don't want me to, but I recommend it. And Scott's gonna be okay; he's healing up much better than you are."

Liam looks at Brett beseechingly, and Brett nods, even as he quietly freaks out over the fact that Liam's turning to him to make medical decisions. He strokes Liam's hair and rubs his back when he coughs again, watching Mrs. McCall prepare an injection.

It doesn't take long; she tells Liam to count backwards from a hundred, but Liam's out by ninety six, and she fits an oxygen mask over his face. Brett's silent.

He doesn't realise at first, but Liam's pack starts to filter in, slowly - Malia first, looking scared and demanding to know what's wrong with Liam, then Scott, still limping and healing and looking generally shitty, then Mason, who's just checked on Stiles. Liam doesn't react to any of it, even when Scott rubs his shoulder and swallows.

"What happened?" Scott asks.

Brett's almost overcome with fury in that moment, watching Scott stare down at Liam, sedated and on oxygen in the hospital bed, his eyes flickering beneath his eyelids. He's trying to remind himself that Scott couldn't have been there, not when he was at death's door because of Theo, but fuck if he isn't fuming mad that _no one_ in Liam's pack was there for him. Or each other, really, but seriously - Liam's fifteen, he's too young to effectively protect himself, so what the hell were the rest of them doing?

"The Dread Doctors," Brett says simply. "He's sick." 

Scott looks to his mother. "How sick?"

"He'll need to keep coming back for dialysis," she says softly. "Probably five or six more times. Whatever this poison is, his kidneys can't filter it, so it just stays in his system." Brett watches as Melissa pulls the covers up around Liam's shoulders a little more, strokes his hair. Liam, pretty heavily sedated, doesn't even twitch.

"Why'd you knock him out?" Malia asks.

"I want him to be comfortable," Melissa says. "And I don't want him nearly ripping out the needles like he did the first time when he woke up. He needs to rest. Properly. He'll sleep for a few hours now."

She's pretty on the money with that; Brett sits down and finds a book, listens to Liam breathe under the oxygen mask, occasionally fidgets with his covers. Everyone else filters out, even Mason in the end, and Liam sleeps right through until twenty minutes before the dialysis is over.

He's groggy when he wakes, eyes vacant and almost unblinking. It's disturbing, but Brett can't look away; Liam needs him right now, and it won't help either of them if Brett turns the other cheek.

Mrs. McCall comes back, starts taking the needles out of Liam's arm and tapes the wound sites shut, strokes Liam's hair. "Liam?" she calls softly. "Can you hear me, sweetie?"

Liam stirs faintly, but doesn't answer. "Brett," Mrs. McCall says softly. "You try."

Brett circles round to Liam's face uneasily. "Li?" he asks. "You awake?"

This time, Liam's eyes roll up towards him, but there's hardly a spark of recognition before he's struggling to stay awake again.

"Is this normal?" Brett asks.

"It can take a while for patients to come out of sedation," Mrs. McCall says. "Maybe another five minutes and he should be fine. Just sit by him and talk to him for a bit; I'll get his things together." 

Brett sits down, slowly, in Liam's line of sight, crosses his arms on the edge of the mattress and puts his head on them. "Hey," he yawns. "Hope you're doing okay." He traces the veins in Liam's wrists softly, watching as the action causes his skin to erupt into goosebumps. "You know," Brett continues, "I really hope this is the end of all the bullshit. For at least a month. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of feeling like I'm next in line to be a guinea pig for the three stooges." 

He keeps talking, mostly about stupid stuff, like school and lacrosse and sometimes teasing Liam, until Liam stirs and mumbles, "You're so full of shit," and Brett smiles.

"How're you feeling?"

"Tired." Liam shifts minutely. "What happened?"

"Mrs. McCall sedated you. You were coughing again. She wanted you to rest."

"Can I rest at home?" Liam murmurs.

Brett nods. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea."

Mrs. McCall gives Liam one last check over before she lets Brett take him home, and she forces Liam to use a wheelchair - which is probably a good thing, because Liam's nodding off where he's sitting and probably wouldn't have been able to walk far anyway. 

Brett lets Liam sleep in the car, running over the list of symptoms Mrs. McCall gave him that would be cause for concern. It's a long list, and by the time they get back to Liam's, Brett's head is swimming with exhaustion and he's ready to break down and cry. 

He has to wake Liam up when they arrive, and Liam stumbles sleepily out of the car and up the steps before he seemingly loses the motivation to go further. Brett carries him. It's not like it matters now; as long as Liam's safe, he doesn't care. If it means carrying Liam around, fine. 

He gets Liam into bed and turns him on his side. Then he turns the shower on and sits down on the toilet seat, trying to stop himself from having a breakdown. Liam almost died. He nearly went the same way Hayden did. He can't stop thinking about Liam, the sight of him choking on the black liquid, his lower face streaked with it, hooked up to dialysis and barely even breathing on his own.

He's barely breathing _now_. He's going to need more dialysis. More medical care. And that's assuming Theo and the chimeras and the Dread Doctors don't interfere. And Brett can't be at school and protect Liam at the same time. He doesn't trust Liam's pack to know what they're doing at this point either. 

Brett tilts his head back and gives up trying not to cry. Because really, everything is incredibly fucked up and there's no one left to turn to. Satomi's trying to keep Brett's pack safe, Scott is broken, Lydia is insane, Parrish is God knows where, the Sheriff is close to death. 

Brett stands up and wipes his face, turns the shower off, and goes back to Liam's room. Liam's on his side, breathing heavily but apparently asleep.

Brett strips down to his boxers, climbs into bed, and wraps Liam up in his arms, burying his face in the back of Liam's neck and trying to stop shaking. 

All he can do is hold Liam tight and wait for morning. 

~*~

Liam's parents have been back for almost four days.

At least, even though Brett can't exactly stay over whenever he or Liam wants, he knows Liam isn't alone in the house. Brett's been able to go home and hang out with his pack and little sister and socialise with his friends. He's even attempted some homework.

Liam's taken a few days off sick from school - that black stuff is still fucking with him and Brett's gonna get him to a dialysis session tonight. 

He gets up for school and gets to class on time, barely able to make it through the half-day brought on by some kind of professional development. He leaves his calculus class, checks his phone, and finds a message from Liam. His heart almost stops.

Is Liam sick? In trouble? Already dead because Brett's teacher was droning on about math and Brett was actually kind of trying to listen?

He opens the text.

**From** : Liam Dunbar, 9:13AM  
There's a guy on Reddit with two dicks!

Brett closes his eyes briefly. Of all the things he really didn't want or care to know, that's gotta be right up there. The fact that Liam seems so excited over it just proves he needs some company - he's clearly bored out of his mind.

Although...

**To** : Liam Dunbar, 11:21AM  
Pics or it didn't happen.

He's getting his stuff out of his locker when his phone buzzes again, and he opens it to - yep, that's two dicks. On one person.

**To** : Liam Dunbar, 11:23AM  
I really thought you were fucking with me :/

**From** : Liam Dunbar, 11:23AM  
Jealous? Lol

Brett can't let Liam beat him at this; he starts heading to his car, intending to go get Liam a smoothie and then head to his house. Liam's appetite is coming back bit by bit, now. Which is great - he needs the extra food. He's dropped an alarming amount of weight, which his parents have thankfully chalked up to them being away and Liam being too irresponsible to feed himself properly.

**To** : Liam Dunbar, 11:24AM  
I bet I can fuck you better with the one I have than he can with the two he has.

Then, smirking, he sends another.

**To** : Liam Dunbar, 11:24AM  
Stop blushing.

The drive to Liam's doesn't take long from the mall, and Brett bounds easily up the steps, holding a tray with their smoothies in it. Smoothies, no matter how sick or down or generally unwell Liam's feeling, are always accepted and demolished, but Liam's still not that into anything that isn't soft at the moment. Brett thinks it might have something to do with him choking on that black stuff, but he can't be sure and he doesn't wanna ask and bring up bad memories. 

He doesn't know how much Liam really remembers of it. He knows that Liam gets panicky the moment he starts to cough, so he must remember at least part of not being able to breathe, but he doesn't seem to be having nightmares or anything anymore. 

He rings the doorbell and waits. Liam's parents are out, which is kind of cool because it means Brett doesn't have to worry about keeping touching to a bare minimum. 

He hears Liam on the stairs, listens intently. Liam's moving slower than usual, not running, but hell, he was almost dead four days ago so being up and walking at all is kind of amazing. 

Brett smiles when Liam opens the door. "Hey."

"Hi," Liam offers. He looks pale and he's out of breath, so Brett guesses he's just finished coughing. 

"Brought you a smoothie," he says when Liam fails to offer any other words up. "You never turn down smoothies."

Liam laughs breathlessly. "Yeah. Thanks." He stands back to let Brett in - he's wearing grey sweats and a white t-shirt and Brett thinks he looks sleepy and adorable, not that he's gonna say that, exactly. Because if he calls Liam adorable, Liam will get bristly and annoyed, and even though that in itself is kind of funny, Brett knows better than to fuck with Liam that way.

"How're you feeling?" Brett asks as he enters and follows Liam upstairs.

Liam stifles a cough behind his hand. "Alright. I'm not breathing that well today. But it's fine." 

"Yeah, I can tell," Brett says as they settle down on Liam's bed. "You sound pretty bad."

Liam nods, sipping at his smoothie. "Yeah. Mom's pretty worried. But like, if I go to the doctor, what am I gonna say? That I'm coughing up black sludge?"

"That's a good point," Brett admits. "But hey, I'm not here to talk about life or death."

"Good. That subject's getting boring," Liam says, and Brett laughs.

"I'm here," he says, "to watch Guardians of the Galaxy with you." He watches the resulting grin bloom on Liam's face, takes in the dimple in his left cheek and the way his eyes almost glitter, and something starts aching inside him, right between his ribs.

"You're gonna love it," Liam grins. "Seriously."

"Uh huh," Brett says. 

He kind of already wishes it was over.

~*~

"So, let me get this straight," he says. "You think I'm Drax?"

"Sort of," Liam says. "You're like a combination of Drax and Groot."

"Well, they're both dumb in completely different ways, but I see what you're getting at," Brett says dryly.

"They aren't dumb!" Liam protests. "Drax's species is completely literal and Groot can only pronounce three words. He can think, he just can't talk well."

Brett groans. "If you want me to stay the night," he warns, "you've gotta stop correcting me on fictional characters. But... yeah. It was a good movie."

"Told you," Liam says smugly. "Are you gonna go and then come back?" He's curled up between Brett's legs, leaning back against him, his right hand absently massaging Brett's thigh. He's fiercely warm and soft where he's lying, and Brett doesn't even really mind that Liam's shoulder blades are pressed uncomfortably into his sternum.

"Yeah. I'll sneak back in later tonight," Brett says. "We go to bed early we can get you to the hospital for dialysis before school." He moves to sit up. "I should get going for now, though. I actually have stuff to do when you're not almost dying."

Joking is the only way he really knows how to cope. He's still having God-awful nightmares of black liquid spilling out of Liam's mouth and nose and filling up his lungs like sticky tar, of the Dread Doctors rending him limb from limb and tearing him open like he's made of nothing more than wet paper. Not that he'll ever admit that.

"Okay," Liam says. "So I'll catch you later then?"

"Yeah," Brett says, heading for the window. "I-"

And he cuts himself off. Because he can't say what he was about to say. They've been seeing each other five weeks; it's too soon.

Liam blinks at him confusedly. "Yeah?" 

"I liked the movie," Brett finishes lamely, glad Liam doesn't seem to know what he was about to say. 

"I told you," Liam snickers. "I told you you'd like it. You fucking nerd."

Brett rolls his eyes; Liam knows almost the whole movie off by heart, but Brett's the nerd. Okay. "See you," he says.

Brett leaves through the window and comes back the same way, but they go to bed before nine, after they're sure Liam's parents aren't going to knock on his door for anything. Brett sleeps right through until he's woken by Liam coughing at two in the morning.

He rolls over, finds Liam on his back and trying to cough quietly. "On your side," he murmurs. "Come on, Liam, on your side." He nudges Liam over, patting his back forcefully. 

He stays where he is until Liam tries to roll onto his back again. Mrs. McCall did say that Liam might want to do that, but Liam's lungs respond better to being turned sideways, and that Brett should aim to keep him like that.

"Not on your back, baby," Brett says sleepily, shifting closer. 

Liam makes a panicky wheezing noise, verging on a cry, and Brett thumps on his back harder until Liam coughs and manages to clear his airways, at least for a moment, before beginning to cough again. He's going to have to go back to the hospital soon. 

Brett listens to Liam try to clear his airways for a full disconcerting five minutes. He's starting to get really worried as Liam chokes, coughs, splutters, and generally finds it hard to breathe; he leans over Liam to flick the light on, rubbing his back. Liam's still coughing up that black stuff, just not as often. Tonight seems bad, though. 

"Come on, Li," he says quietly. "It's okay."

He decides to help out even though that involves really pounding Liam's back; he grabs the towel that's next to the bed, for this reason, and hands it to Liam. "Cough on three," he says. Liam nods at him. 

He counts to three, slams his palm into Liam's back, and feels a surge of relief as Liam manages to spit up some of the liquid. After that, he lies still, panting heavily and wiping his eyes, which are streaming from the effort.

"Sounds like you need the hospital," Brett says softly.

Liam's eyes flicker up to him. He's lying on his back, and Brett can see the way his sides are heaving as he draws breath. He traces Liam's arm all the way to the palm of his hand, is on his way back up when Liam grasps at him.

"Maybe," Liam croaks.

"You sound terrible."

"My throat hurts. The coughing." Liam closes his eyes, tilts his head back into the pillow. "Mom and Dad think I'm sick with the flu," he says. "They keep making me take stuff." 

"Can't hurt you," Brett says. "Come on. We'd better go."

Liam nods. They're both quiet on the drive to the hospital, because they're pretty sleepy. It stays relatively calm and quiet until they pull up at the hospital and Liam starts to cough - again, Jesus, Brett thinks - leans forward a little and straightens his back like he's trying to let more air into his lungs. 

Brett hates this, all of it; the way Liam can't seem to get enough air into his lungs once one of these coughing fits starts, the way he leans forward and gasps shallowly for breath.  


"Lean forward," Brett murmurs, sitting up straighter in his own seat. Liam bends forward, his forehead against the dashboard, his breathing whistling like air through leaky pipes, shallow and rapid. He coughs a few more times, breathes through his nose, then gives up and opens his mouth. Brett can see him trying to draw bigger breaths, but every one is halted by the poison.

He slides his hand under Liam's shirt, rubs his back as he coughs and gasps. Even last week this would have had him panicking enough to hustle Liam inside, but now, he knows that he's got the time to let Liam catch his breath. The coughing fits are getting fewer and farther between as the dialysis treatments remove more and more of the poison from his body.

Liam swallows, breathing heavily with his mouth open, still leaning on the dashboard. "You okay?" Brett asks softly.

Liam nods. He's panting, clearly out of breath, but he sits back and opens the door to get out, so Brett follows. He's glad when they get to the waiting room; Liam sinks down onto a chair and leans forward.

"Having trouble tonight?" Brett asks worriedly.

Liam nods. His breathing is pretty wheezy, but he's recovering slowly. He meets Brett's eyes and gives him a small, reassuring smile, even though he doesn't say anything. 

Brett leans over him and picks up the Woman's Day magazine on the seat. "Let's see who's knocked up and who's cheating on who," he says, flipping it open. "Looks like Kylie Jenner's pregnant. What's that, the fifth time this year?"

Liam laughs hoarsely. "Must be." 

They sit there for a bit, until Mrs. McCall appears to wave them through. "How're you doing, Liam?" she asks kindly.

"Good," he croaks.

"You sound terrible."

"I know," Liam sighs. "I don't feel terrible. If that's, you know, helpful at all." 

Mrs. McCall laughs a bit. "It is." She opens the door to the dialysis room. "Brett?"

"Hanging in there," Brett says. Liam rolls his eyes as he pushes his sleeve up and climbs up onto the bed, holding his arm out for Mrs. McCall.

"You know the drill," she says. "Lidocaine first."

This is the worst part of the procedure; the Lidocaine burns Liam on its way into his bloodstream, leaves him wincing and often sleepy and confused. Mrs. McCall says he's lucky to get away with only those symptoms. Brett doesn't even wanna know what the other ones are.

Liam winces as the drug makes its way into his system; Brett watches as it takes effect, as Liam's eyes grow drowsy and distant, the muscles in his arms jumping a little. It takes a few minutes to settle in, and in that time, Mrs. McCall prepares the rest of the dialysis treatment.

"Okay," she says. "Time for the real stuff. Ready, Liam?"

Liam nods.

Mrs. McCall ties a tourniquet around his bicep, rolling his sleeve up, and smacks his inner elbow, bringing the veins to the surface.

"Pinch," she says softly, inserting the first needle. Liam barely flinches anymore, but it must hurt him at least a little - the needles used are far larger than normal ones, visibly hollow at the tip - his arm is black and blue with bruises that haven't healed, forcing him to wear long-sleeved shirts even in the summer. At least now it's getting cooler, Brett thinks. 

"Good job, Liam. Hold that there." Liam holds the first needle in place while Mrs. McCall tears up some tape strips and secures it, then moves onto the second needle. "And another."

Liam does wince at this one, barely controlling an instinctual jerk. "Sorry, sweetie," Mrs. McCall murmurs. "All done. Let me get you taped up and I'll leave you in peace."

Liam shrugs. "I'm just glad you always get it the first time," he says.

She smiles fondly. "I've had almost twenty years of being a nurse, honey," she says. "And you've got young, healthy veins." She secures all the wires, needles and tubes in place, gives Liam a pat on the bicep. "Alright, I'll see you in four hours."

"Thanks, Mrs. McCall," Liam calls as she leaves the room. When she has, he turns to Brett. "I can't wait for these bruises to heal," he says ruefully. "They're so sore."

"Yeah?" Brett moves closer, touches Liam's fingertips with his own. He can't heal the bruises but he can take the pain away, which is what he does. 

Liam smiles. The relief on his face is undisguised. "Thanks," he says. "You-"

"Don't have to." Brett smiles. "I get it. It's easy for me." It is; he doesn't have to focus on it the same way Liam does. It's instinctual. 

He watches as Liam yawns, leans his head back against the pillow. The shock of his dark blonde hair against the pillow makes Brett reach out, twisting one thick, straight strand around his finger. Liam's hair is glossy, soft, because he's just showered and has nothing in it. 

"Tired?" he asks.

Liam nudges his head up into Brett's touch. "Sort of." 

"Your hair's getting long," Brett notes. "It was way shorter than this a few months ago. Are you growing it?"

"Not deliberately. Just forgot to get it cut." His eyelids are moving, blinking, slowly, drowsily. "Maybe I am kinda tired," he admits.

"I figured," Brett teases. "Get some sleep, dork. When we get back to yours we're watching a movie."

"What movie?" Liam's barely even paying attention to him. Brett grabs the blanket from the end of the bed and unfolds it.

"I dunno," he says. "Batman?"

Liam cracks an eye open. "I'm not cold," he says.

"You will be. You always get cold." He drapes the blanket over Liam, sits back down. He watches the tubes in Liam's arms, the way they run a bright red with his blood. 

Liam follows his gaze. "It looks better, right?" he asks.

"Yeah. Loads." The first dialysis session had the tubes turning almost black with the amount of poison in them. "You'll be back to normal in no time," Brett says, kicking his feet up on the bed. "Few more of these and you'll probably be healthier than me."

Liam coughs. It's deep and chesty, something he hasn't quite been able to kick since nearly dying. It must be related to the black stuff, because every dialysis session lessens its frequency, but they can't really be sure. He hates the way it really grips Liam's chest, especially when he's already tired and wanting to sleep.

Brett wants to move forward and try to help, but there's not much he can do beyond rubbing Liam's back as he sits up and leans forward, and Brett knows he's trying to straighten out his torso and give his lungs some more room to breathe. At least this coughing fit doesn't last as long as the last one, and soon Liam's leaning back again, not quite lying down, his face flushed and chest still rising and falling rapidly.

"Okay now?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam croaks.

Brett finds some ice chips from the dispenser outside the room and brings them back. Liam promptly starts crunching on them, making Brett wince. He's got no idea how Liam does that - eats ice like it's candy, or goes to bed with his hair wet. 

"You know," he says, "that's probably why you get so cold. You eat ice cubes. Freak." 

Liam looks at him, dead in the eye, and crushes more ice between his teeth. Brett shakes his head. 

It doesn't take long for Liam to get drowsy. Mrs. McCall says it happens a lot with dialysis patients - mostly it's a side effect of the Lidocaine, combined with sitting still for so long, and Liam's no different to anyone else. Apart from the werewolf thing, that is. Every injection knocks him around less as his healing is starting to work again, fixing his kidneys.

Watching as Liam begins to doze off, Brett's gripped by the sudden and overwhelming urge to climb onto the bed with him and hold him. There's nothing stopping him, so he does, moving around to Liam's good side and sliding into the bed.

Liam lifts his head, looking around. "Huh?"

"Go back to sleep. I'm just getting in with you." Brett slides in, puts an arm around Liam's shoulders and lets him lean his head against his arm. "You alright?" he asks softly. "Doing okay?"

Liam yawns, nods, and tangles his legs with Brett's, rolling to nose at his neck, where his scent is strongest. He winces at the pull of the needles in his skin and gingerly puts his arm in his lap. "Cold," he offers eventually.

Brett pulls at the blanket more. "Told you," he says. Liam's eyes drift up to him, sleepy and somewhat dazed. 

"Thank you," he says.

"For what?" Brett's still fussing with the blanket, trying to get it to cover Liam's waist and chest without pulling it off his feet.

"This." Liam's eyes flutter tiredly. "For staying," he clarifies. "For... everything."

Brett leans in and kisses him gently. "Anytime," he says, and means it. "Get some sleep, okay, Liam? I'll be here when you wake up." 

He can't wait to have the strong, healthy Liam back, the one he can wrestle and horse around with without consequence. For now, though, he's happy to lie here with him and maybe sleep a little himself. 

Only fifteen minutes later, the door opens, and Scott enters. Brett motions at Liam to indicate that he's asleep.

Scott sits slowly in Brett's abandoned chair. "How's he doing?" he asks softly. 

"Much better." Brett puts his head down. "He usually sleeps."

"Why?" Scott looks alarmed.

"Because it's boring." Brett would really love to tuck his head down along with Liam and sleep for a month, but he doesn't think that's gonna happen. Not with Scott here. "What's up?" he asks Scott sleepily. 

"I just came to check on him." Scott nods at Liam. "Mom said he'd be here around this time. Do you bring him every time?"

"Pretty much." Brett looks down at Liam, who's breathing softly and evenly in his sleep, mouth slightly open, head lolling against Brett's arm. He's glad Liam can at least get some much-needed extra rest from all this. 

Scott gestures at Liam's arm. "He's not healing," he says softly.

"He does." Brett fights down another yawn; he really wants Scott to go so he can sleep as well. "Just not as fast. This black stuff, whatever it is, it really screws around with the whole werewolf thing. It's like his body just doesn't know what to do with it." 

"But it's getting better?"

"Your mom's a good nurse." Brett holds still as Liam wriggles a bit. "Did you come to see him while he was awake?" Brett asks. "'Cause he's probably gonna sleep the whole time. Lazy prick."

"I wanted to apologise for throwing him up against a wall," Scott says sheepishly.

"I don't think he even remembers." _I do, though,_ Brett thinks sourly. "Doesn't mean it was okay," he mutters, just to make himself clear. 

Scott nods. "I know, and I feel... so guilty for having done it," he murmurs. Brett knows he's sincere, but really, with the amount of shit Scott has left Liam to go through alone, he's having a tough time swallowing this. 

"I'll let him know you came by," Brett says, hoping Scott gets the point and leaves them to it.

Scott sighs. "I know you probably... don't really see me as a good alpha right now," he says. "But I'm trying, and I'm gonna get them all back."

"Okay," Brett says passively. 

"Take care of him," Scott says, brushes Liam's hair, and then leaves. Brett puts his head down and closes his eyes. He dozes for an hour or so, but finds it hard to drift off with the constant whirr of the machine and the beeping coming intermittently from it. 

He watches Liam for a moment, trying to figure out how deeply asleep he is - he doesn't like disturbing Liam during the treatment, which is boring at best and uncomfortable at worst. Sometimes Liam stays awake, talks to him, but usually he sleeps. Brett doesn't blame him. It's boring as hell to sit here for four hours, watching Liam's blood spin lazily through the monstrosity of a machine. 

Liam seems pretty out, though. He's breathing deeply - Brett can't believe that less than a week ago Liam was choking to death on fluid from his own lungs. It still unnerves him to think about. That Liam was so close to death. Mrs. McCall showed them some tests she ran on Liam's kidneys, and even though Brett doesn't really have that great a grasp on medicine, he knew that scoring an eight when an acceptable level is ninety is not good. 

He manages to disentangle himself from Liam and slide out of the bed, wanders around to get a drink and stretch his legs. 

Liam keeps on sleeping, not bothered by the machine the way Brett is. He's lying on his back, face tilted away from Brett, arm lying flat and palm-up on the bed beside him, the other folded over his middle. He's wearing one of Brett's long-sleeved shirts, the right arm hiked up to make room for the two needles extracting and delivering his blood back to him. It's not neat; the needles are thick, long, connected to wide tubes, have to be taped in place to stop them from shifting and pulling Liam's veins. The freakiest part, Brett thinks, is that when you touch the tubes, they're warm from Liam's blood rushing through them. 

He doesn't mind letting Liam sleep. Melissa seems to think it's a side-effect of the black liquid, that it did something to change Liam's hormone levels and that there's going to be an adjustment period. Brett also knows that the drug used to numb Liam's arm before the needles are inserted makes people sleepy, so that's not all that strange. Liam's not healing as fast as usual, either, and his right arm is mottled with deep black bruises from the multiple needle sites.

"We don't like to use the same puncture sites," Melissa explained to Brett, maybe the second or third lot of treatment, "because that can leave permanent weakening in that spot on the vein. Normally, we'd insert a fistula, but I have no idea how his body would react to that, and it'll heal anyway." Brett thinks she was probably saying it to distract Liam from the sensation of the needle entering his skin, but Brett's the squeamish one in that area. He hates the idea of needles. 

Brett sighs, rubs his face, and leans back in his chair. A few second later, Liam stirs, roused by the noise, and turns his head to face Brett.

"Sorry. Dozed off." His voice is quiet, scratchy.

Brett shakes his head. "Dude, sleep if you can," he says. "It's boring as hell in here."

Liam uses his good arm to motion at the TV screen. "There's a TV," he says. "Or you could do homework."

Neither of those things are interesting. Brett moves to sit on the bed beside Liam, being careful of his arm.

"How're you feeling?" he asks.

"Better." Liam yawns. "Every time I do this I feel like I'm getting stronger." He looks at the clock. "How long left?"

"You're about halfway." Brett leans back slowly, takes Liam's arm, and shifts it onto his lap so they can sit together, touching from their feet to their shoulders. He ignores how warm the tubes are when he brushes them. They're taped down to Liam's arm and he's not freaking out, so neither will Brett. 

"You don't have to stay, you know," Liam says awkwardly. "I know you get bored. And I sleep anyway." 

Brett shakes his head. "I don't mind." He doesn't, really; he likes knowing he can protect Liam if need be. "Besides, I'd just have to make double the trip." He nudges Liam gently. "Not saying you aren't worth the effort, but gas is expensive." 

Liam gives a soft, lilting laugh. "Yeah." He's starting to get sleepy again, yawning and rolling his shoulders and neck. Brett watches as his eyelids flutter shut. Liam rolls slowly onto his side, facing Brett. For a moment, Brett thinks he might be about to sleep, and it's quiet; the next second, Liam's starting to cough. 

The coughing isn't quite as bad as it was, before - doesn't explode out of Liam violently as often, starts as a slow-burn kind of thing - but Brett can tell it hurts Liam's lungs. The first few days after Liam almost died, it wasn't even strictly the poison that kept him down and out; it was the pain in his lungs from coughing so much, making it hard to breathe, that stopped him from doing things. 

He hears the door open; it's Mrs. McCall, looking concerned. She must've heard him. "Everything okay?" she asks quietly.

Liam nods. "Just - choking," he pants. Brett rubs Liam's back soothingly, mostly because he doesn't know what else to do and Liam seems to be comforted by touch. 

Mrs. McCall looks at the machines. "Seems okay for now," she says softly.

"Why does he cough like that?" Brett asks Mrs. McCall lowly.

She glances at Liam, who's just starting to get over this round of deep, chesty coughing. "Listen," she says to Brett softly, "I don't know what this stuff is, but it isn't good. His body can't filter it on its own - it's likely no one can, or that very few people can. I don't know the full effect of what it does to him. Having said that... the lungs are the closest part to his heart, which is pumping blood around his body. If this stuff is really laced with wolfsbane like you said, but not enough to kill him, that could be doing it. Has it been getting worse?"

"No," Brett murmurs. "No, it's getting better every time he does the dialysis. But how long is he gonna have to do it for?" 

Mrs. McCall glances at Liam, then pulls Brett outside for a little while. "I don't want to scare him," she explains gently. "But to answer your question - until the symptoms go away. We barely brought him back, Brett. He's not strong enough yet to go through that again." 

Brett nods. "But why did it happen?"

She shakes her head. "I have a theory, but that's all," she says. "A lot of poisons work by shutting down the automatic reflexes. You said you had to make Liam sick in Sinema, that he couldn't vomit himself. That's what happened last week too. Whatever this stuff is, it gets into the body and shuts down the functioning of the kidneys. Liam probably only made it as long as he did because he didn't try to shift and because he's a werewolf, and his healing was combating it. I think the supermoon would have triggered a transformation if he'd been well, but instead it allowed the poison to take hold of him completely."

"I was wondering why he didn't transform," Brett says. "I guess that explains it."

Mrs. McCall nods. "That's why he got bad so quickly - his body was actively trying to fix what was happening but all that did was make it worse. With his kidneys mostly shut down, they couldn't filter it from his system, which lead to heart failure, which caused the pulmonary edema." 

"But - he's gonna be fine now, right? With the dialysis?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I think so. He seems much better." She pats his arm, a motherly gesture that makes him feel kind of soft and warm. "You'd better go back in there," she says. "He's gonna get bored."

"I'm the one who gets bored," Brett says. "He just sleeps."

She laughs. "It can't hurt him. I'll come back when his dialysis is done, okay?"

"Okay," Brett says, and heads back into the hospital room.

~*~

He doesn't have to sneak in through the window this time of morning. Liam's parents have either started work by now or are sleeping in, being shift workers, so Brett just has to be quiet as he follows Liam up the stairs.

They've got an hour before school, and so they're settling back into bed, grabbing sleep where they can; Brett will wake up ten minutes before Liam's parents knock on his bedroom door and leave before anyone notices. 

Once they're settled on Liam's bed and Liam's changed into a t-shirt, Brett starts playing with Liam's hair again. He loves everything about it; how thick it is, naturally straight, smooth and strong and healthy. 

_Like the rest of Liam_ , Brett thinks with a snicker, _except the naturally straight part_.

"What're you laughing at?" Liam asks.

"Nothing."

Liam narrows his eyes, but he seems to be enjoying the attention on his head too much to say anything. "Don't get used to it," he says. "I'm gonna cut it soon." He raises his right arm to paw at it, winces, and lowers it again. 

Brett's mood darkens a little bit. "Reckon the bandages could come off yet?" he asks.

Liam nods. "Yeah. I'm gonna go do it now, actually." He's heading into the bathroom before Brett can say much more about it.

Brett hears it when Liam starts coughing again, sighs as he gets up and goes to the bathroom. Liam's holding onto the sink, chest heaving as he tries to stay quiet and catch his breath at the same time. His eyes meet Brett's in the mirror.

"You okay?" Brett asks softly, padding into the bathroom and stroking Liam's spine. Liam nods, his arm over his mouth. When he eventually catches his breath, he leans down and takes a drink straight from the tap.

"It's like I just can't catch my breath," he murmurs. "When it happens I mean."

Brett nods, steers Liam out of the bathroom and back to bed. The bandages on Liam's arm are gone. 

Brett turns off the main light switch and they're plunged into darkness before he finds the switch for Liam's lamp, which lights up the room with a soft glow. He pulls the covers over them both, takes Liam's arm in his hands, and begins tracing the bruises softly.

"Does this hurt?" he asks softly.

Liam shakes his head, relaxing back against him. He rests his head at the base of Brett's neck, nosing at his pulse point and occasionally giving him a little kiss, right over his artery. Liam's lips are soft, smooth. And Brett realises, with what he can only describe as a glowing feeling, that Liam's simultaneously scenting him and scent marking him. 

He's been doing more of it, now that he's not sick, which makes Brett feel less weird about the unending compulsion he has to make sure Liam smells like him all the goddamn time. Brett wonders how much of this is Liam coming out of his shell a little and how much of it is due to his senses being improved with his healing.

Brett kind of loves this dork. He's not ready to admit it aloud, not even to himself, but he really does sort of love Liam, in this painful, visceral you-almost-died kind of way. He feels like the luckiest person alive that Liam got better and that he's okay and relaxing back in Brett's arms. Because so many people have died this month. And Brett can't even remember a lot of their names. 

"We should sleep," Brett says softly.

"Okay," Liam mumbles back sleepily. "G'night." 

Brett nudges him gently until he's lying down, tucks his arm over Liam's waist and pulls him in close. "Night," he replies softly. "See you in an hour."

But Liam's already asleep, and Brett's not far behind.


	14. Fourteen - Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild update appeared! Thanks to everyone for feedback on the last chapter - this one's from Liam's point of view. Enjoy! <3

**Chapter Fourteen - Fracture  
Liam's P.O.V**

Liam startles when someone drops a pile of books next to him.

He's in the library, studying, because almost dying has taken a toll on his grades. When he looks up, Malia's sitting down next to him, holding a highlighter between her teeth.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," she replies, pulling out a pencil case. "What are you studying?"

"Um, biology," Liam says, "but I'm really shit at it. Normally Lydia helps me so-" He jumps when Malia brushes right up against him. "Um," he stammers. "What're you doing?"

"You don't smell like us," she says simply. "You should. We're your pack." 

Liam nods. Even though the contact is strange - Malia's two years older than him, a girl, and Stiles' girlfriend - it's not exactly unwelcome, and he finds himself settling into it. He feels better about knowing why she's so close. Malia doesn't hide things, as far as he knows. 

And he's also not nearly as frustrated with Malia as he is with Stiles and Scott. There's that.

Malia turns to him. "Did you know about Donovan?" she asks seriously.

Liam swallows, but ultimately, she'll know if he's lying. "Yeah," he says. "I - Stiles wanted me to help him with something. I smelled the blood. I made him tell me what happened. Kind of wish I hadn't, because then he made me promise not to tell anyone." He hangs his head. "I had to lie to Scott," he mumbles.

Malia nods. "Don't worry," she says. "I didn't tell him either."

"You knew as well?" Liam asks.

"I saw the mark while he was sleeping." 

Liam nods his head a little, looking at his textbook. "This may as well be another language," he murmurs gloomily. "I don't understand any of it."

He feels Malia's hand on his shoulder and turns back to her. She looks serious, but also kind of open and earnest. "I'm not very good at it either," she admits, "but I'll help you if I can." 

Liam smiles softly. "Thanks, Malia."

"There's a pack meet on tomorrow," she says. "Brett's invited."

"Really? Stiles hates him."

"Scott made the decision," she says.

"Oh. Okay. I'll let him know. Thanks." 

She nods. For a while, they work in silence, until Liam puts his pen down and sits back for a moment. He feels strung out and raw, emotional, like he's gearing up to cry at any given moment. It's a strange feeling for him; he's used to anger, but not this. Not this awful, swelling, painful feeling in his throat.

"I miss Lydia and Kira," he admits.

Malia's eyes are soft when they meet his. "Me too," she says.

~*~

"You seem out of it."

Liam blinks at Mason sleepily. "What gave me away this time?"

"Dude, you were almost snoring," Mason says. "Like out loud, while you were awake. What's up? You aren't taking Risperdal again, are you?"

"No. Dialysis last night." He barely suppresses a yawn. "Scott's mom thinks it might be the last one, though."

He can't help but smile back a little when Mason grins at him, wide and unselfconscious. "That's great." He claps Liam's shoulder briefly. "Is Brett picking you up today?"

"Yeah."

"You're leaving me to ride the bus by myself," Mason complains. "I mean I don't blame you, you've got a pretty hot boyfriend and better things to do than take the bus home. But remember the little people, yeah?"

Liam laughs. "Yeah. Speaking of bus, you're about to miss it." 

Mason whips around, seeing the bus just closing its doors. "See you, man," he says, and takes off.

Liam smiles to himself as he leans over, pulls his history textbook out of his bag and balances it across his knees, intending to study until Brett gets here. It's a nice day and he's somehow managed to put most of the terrible last month out of his mind.

He sighs when he opens to the chapter they're studying in class. Malia told him to highlight things he didn't understand in red, things he did understand in green, and things he wasn't sure about in yellow. It's depressing to see that most of the book is red or yellow.

Not like he's been keeping up, though, and Brett wasn't helpful the other night, when they were meant to be studying but Brett got bored and decided to play with fire and finger Liam with his parents right downstairs. Liam doesn't think he's ever had so much trouble keeping quiet before. He's also vowed to get payback as soon as possible.

His phone vibrates, and he finds a message from Brett on the screen.

**From** : Brett Talbot, 2:32PM  
Running late, be there soon

Liam shrugs, puts his phone away. It's a nice day out. It's not like it matters if he sits for another ten or fifteen minutes.

"Was that your boyfriend?"

Liam looks up and sees Harris, a guy in the same year as him, and his two cronies. They're the same guys who gave him shit a while ago, who used to beat up Mason; Liam scowls at him, hoping that's the end of it and they move away.

Of course, it's not that easy; even as Liam goes back to his textbook, Harris steps forward. "Come on, Liam," he says, a grin on his face. "Just messing with you."

Liam bites back the snarl threatening to twist his face up, forces down the urge to change and takes a subtle, slow deep breath. "Yeah," he says finally. "Whatever." 

Harris smiles again, but there's nothing really nice or friendly about it. "Come hang with us," he says.

Liam begs himself to get a grip; his heartbeat is rising rapidly and his wolf is growling quietly, ready if he needs it. He doesn't want to. Not this time around. Not when things have just started to look better.

"What's your problem?" Harris asks. "Too much of a fag to play some basketball?"

Liam grits his teeth. His pulse is roaring in his ears and he's seriously considering just breaking Harris's nose, just to get him to back the fuck off, but he can't shake the idea of his parents being disappointed in him - the idea of going to more therapy sessions, of everyone realising he's not taking his Risperdal again-

He startles as Harris grabs the shoulder of his shirt and yanks him upright, then shoves him, sending him flying back into the table. Liam's caught off guard as he lands, furious as he hears them all guffawing at him, _don't fight back, don't fight back, it's not worth it, play smart, not hard-_

Harris gives him a light kick to the shin, and Liam reaches out to grip the steel leg of the table. "Come on, Dunbar," Harris says. "You gonna get up and fight? We know you're fucking crazy." 

_Play smart. Not hard_. But his wolf - and his I.E.D - aren't having any of that particular mantra. He lifts his eyes, not having to try hard to make the glare on his face menacing, and meets Harris's stare. 

Still, he flinches when Harris swings, but doesn't hit him. Being down on the ground like this reminds him of his dad, of the way his dad used to throw him around until he stopped getting up and would then beat the shit out of him. 

"Guess you're just like Mason," Harris says. "He never fought back either. Always waited for you to show up. Probably has a massive boner for you. Bet he's pissed he didn't get to call dibs." 

_The sun, the moon, the truth_. He's squeezing the table leg, feels it give under the palm of his hand. _The sun, the moon the truth._

Harris reaches down, smacks him lightly across the face, as if it's a gentle, friendly tap between teammates. "Figured," he says. "You're way too pretty to be straight."

"Liam?" 

Liam's head snaps up, sees Brett walking towards him, and his heart jumps with relief around the same time his stomach sinks with dread. If Brett defends him from these pricks, it's going to make things a thousand times worse for him. 

Brett doesn't step in, though; he stands back a bit, looks at the guys in question. The other two haven't done anything other than hem Liam in, making sure any escape route is blocked. Now, though, they take a step back.

"What's going on?" Brett asks, his voice measured.

"Nothing," Harris says. "See ya, Liam."

The only sense of satisfaction to be had right now is that Harris and his two friends reek of fear as they turn and leave him alone. Liam stays where he is, his hands shaking, blood still pulsing with rage. He doesn't feel like it's safe for him to get up yet. He's angry enough he might still wind up and hit something, and he's not really convinced he's got his I.E.D or his wolf under control yet.

He feels a hand on his knee and jumps, looking up. It's just Brett, though, looking worried. "What happened?" he asks softly.

"What do you think?" Liam replies bitterly. 

Brett nods, slowly. "Yeah," he says, as if he's considering something. "Yeah, I know. You okay? Did they hurt you?"

Liam shuffles a bit where he's sitting, still not letting go of the table leg and kind of wishing Brett wasn't standing over him like that. It's way too close to a mirror image of his dad. 

"We both know they can't," Liam says.

"That's not what I meant," Brett says gently, "and you know it." 

Liam leans his head back; his heartbeat is finally settling into a more normal range. "I'm fine," he says finally. "They didn't hurt me. They were just trying to get me worked up. They did a good job, too." 

Brett nods. "You gonna get up?" he asks.

"In a minute." Liam wouldn't ever admit it to anyone - probably not even Brett - but yeah, there was a part of him that was worried those guys would whale on him. He knows he'd heal any injuries they managed to inflict, but what with his lack of self-control, he probably would have ripped their throats out.

And then there's his history with his dad, which is now at the forefront of his mind. He pulls his knees up a bit, remembering in particular the bruising blows to his ribs, the feeling of them fracturing on the night his mother finally called the police. 

"Liam."

He looks up. Brett's sitting in front of him now, legs crossed and looking worried. "Wherever it is you're going," he says, "don't go there." 

Liam leans his head back, trying to shake off the memories before they really get a grip on him. He's startled when Brett reaches out and takes his left hand, gentle, so Liam can shake him off if he wants to. He doesn't.

"Did this happen to you?" Liam asks finally.

Brett looks regretful at that. "Yeah. Every day until I got bigger and they decided I wasn't worth the effort anymore. I'm sure they probably found another target after that."

"I'm not gonna get bigger," Liam says. "Neither is Mason." And that didn't matter up until now, because Liam could step in and beat the crap out of anyone who so much as looked at Mason funny, but he can't anymore. Not with his wolf barely under his control. 

"Yeah you will. You're only sixteen. You'll grow." Brett smiles and reaches over with his other hand, scruffing Liam's hair up. "Maybe not much," he teases, "but you'll grow." 

Liam pushes his hand off, smiling reluctantly. "Whatever." 

"Made you laugh," Brett says. 

Liam shakes his head. "Shut up," he replies. "I didn't want to."

"I know. Ready to go?"

He is, now, so he nods and takes Brett's hand gratefully when he offers it to him and pulls him to his feet. "Thanks for coming to get me," he says softly.

Brett nods. "Is this stuff yours?" he asks, motioning at the textbooks and backpack.

"Yeah," Liam sighs, scooping everything up and dumping it unceremoniously in his bag. "Let's just get out of here."

"You didn't fight back," Brett says.

"If I'd fought back I could've killed them," Liam says. 

He's kind of surprised when Brett swings an arm around his shoulders. "I'm proud of you," he says. "For not killing them. It's pretty tempting." 

"You didn't seem worried."

"Didn't wanna make it worse for you." Brett looks at him regretfully. "I kind of wish I'd stepped in, though," he says.

"No, you're right. You would've made it worse if you had. They're already looking for a reason to pick on me." Liam dumps his stuff in the trunk of Brett's car, then climbs into the front seat. "I don't know how you stay so calm," he admits. "Ever. I react to everything. That's why they rail on me." 

"You know that's why they do it?" Brett asks.

"Yeah. Of course. It's the same thing our lacrosse team used to do. It was fun to get a rise out of me and watch me lose my shit." 

Brett looks distinctly uncomfortable now, so Liam rushes to make amends. "I didn't say any of that to make you feel guilty," he says hurriedly. "I just - I know that's why they do it. Even now."

"Hey," Brett says. "You know I'm sorry, right? For all the shit I did to you at Devonford?"

"I know," Liam says. "You've apologised. I believe you." 

Brett nods. Then he reaches over and ruffles Liam's hair up, grabbing him by the neck when Liam squawks and tries to get away from him. 

"You wanna get a smoothie?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam says eagerly. Now that he's not sick and dying anymore, his appetite is back with a vengeance and he's spent the last week eating enough to try and make up for what he wasn't before. It's easier to stay awake and he's back at the gym, too. He didn't realise how weak he was; he guesses it happened gradually, otherwise he would've.

The drive to the mall is pretty quiet, punctuated by a few words here and there. Liam's comfortable in the silence with Brett, because Brett's the only person he knows who doesn't use it against him - doesn't wait him out to force him to talk about things.

They're walking into the mall when Brett swings his arm around Liam's shoulders, casually, and pulls him in, tucks him in close. Of all the people Liam thought wouldn't be ashamed of him, Brett wasn't one. Because Liam knows plenty of people who have distanced themselves because of his I.E.D, but Brett... hasn't ever run away from him. 

He squirms a little in Brett's hold, only realises that he's subconsciously scent-marking Brett when the latter says, "You know, Liam, at least I leave it to the bedroom," and tries to stop. He hadn't really realised that he's been rubbing his side against Brett's in the effort.

His phone goes off; he checks it and sighs when he sees it's his mom. "Mom wants me home for dinner," he explains. 

"Widdle Wiam has to run home," Brett teases.

"Shut up," Liam says huffily.

"Good comeback. Yeah, I'll have you home by then. She know where you are?"

"No."

"Who you're with?"

"... No." 

"She's remarkably calm for someone who doesn't know where her teenager is."

"You didn't read the text," Liam says ruefully. "She's not calm at all." 

Much as he complains, he does kind of like having them back. Yeah, there've been sacrifices; Liam can't exactly have Brett round so they can fuck anymore, but the house isn't as quiet and lonely as it was, and he's getting real food again, which is awesome because he can actually eat it. 

They drive home and Brett puts his hand on Liam's thigh, and Liam swears every nerve ending goes up in flames with arousal. So he's been pretty sick and they haven't really done much, even now that he's better, and Brett's fingers giving his quadriceps the best massage they've ever had is making him kind of horny. 

When they pull up - a block away from his house to make his bus story believable - Liam pretty much crawls into Brett's lap, managing to squish himself into the space between Brett's chest and the steering wheel, and leans down to kiss him hungrily. 

Brett seems surprised, but he's not exactly resisting; he pulls Liam in closer for a while, then breaks away and says, "I have a better idea," as he climbs into the backseat and motions at Liam to join him. And Liam does; sits on Brett's pelvis with his knees and thighs locked around Brett's waist and hips and leans down again, sighs when his mouth touches Brett's and tongues hesitantly at the seam of his lips. He thinks he's getting better at not being kind of gross and wet, so he wants to try it out. 

"Liam," Brett whispers.

"Hmm?" Liam mumbles.

"Nothing, I just - I wanted to say your name." 

"Mmhm," Liam replies distractedly, managing to find his way into Brett's school uniform and palming his abs. He can feel Brett's hands on his back, his sides, gripping and kneading and stroking him. And, underneath him, where he's sitting, the hard, rigid line of Brett's cock, pressing up into the seam of his thigh. He readjusts to he can feel it properly, on his ass, and Brett groans.

He puts his hands on Brett's face, using his abs to hold himself up, strokes at Brett's cheeks even as he continues to kiss him, trying to slot himself impossibly closer. 

He's pretty much panting when Brett pulls away from him a little. "Liam," he says weakly. "Not that I'm not thoroughly enjoying this, and you, in general, but you'd better go inside soon." 

Liam whines. Doesn't bother saying anything articulate, just whines. Brett smiles at him, fondly, and Liam's stomach and heart do some weird things, because Brett's never looked quite like that before. Never looked at him like that before. 

"Better give that time to sort itself out, though," Brett teases as he nods at the bulge in Liam's jeans.

Liam groans, putting his forehead against Brett's. "I don't wanna let it sort itself out," he grumbles. "I want you to sort it out for me." 

Brett laughs. "Lazy punk."

"Did you just call me a punk? How old are you?" 

Brett sits up, still laughing, and they get out of the car. "You're a punk," he teases.

"Yeah, whatever." Liam lets Brett straighten his shirt out for him. "See you tomorrow?"

"Or tonight," Brett says. "Maybe I'll come over."

Liam smiles. "Okay." 

Brett kisses him goodbye and Liam takes off down the sidewalk. Maybe if Brett comes over they can continue making out or something. 

When he gets back, he gives his mom a kiss on the cheek and goes to talk to his stepdad in the garage for a bit before heading upstairs. It's normal. It's nice. He knows Brett would rip on him for kissing his mom on the cheek. He doesn't mind much.

"So, where were you today?" his mom asks.

"Just out," he says evasively. Okay. So he may not have told them about Brett. Or that he's in a relationship. Or anything at all. Definitely not any of the werewolf stuff, or the almost dying stuff, and he knows he should probably disclose all of that as soon as possible, but... he doesn't know how to. And he's not sure anyone he knows will know how to, either.

"I don't mind you going out," she says. "It's just nice to know where you are."

"I was at the mall," he says as he sets the table. 

"The mall?" she asks curiously. "How did you get there? Dean! Dinner!"

"I... got the bus?" he asks feebly, even though he knows that's going to fall through because if he'd really gotten the bus and then taken the same way home, it would've taken him a thousand times longer. And okay, maybe he hung around in Brett's car and pressed Brett back into the backseat and maybe he made out with Brett a little, but it still doesn't account for the time.

She raises an eyebrow. "Apart from the times not matching up," she points out, "you're also stuttering." 

Fucking hell. If he's not exploding with anger he's twitching with nerves; he has no idea how Brett can stand being around him half the time. He's still trying to come up with an explanation that makes sense as they all sit down to dinner.

He can't find one because he's really not good under pressure, so he ends up saying, "I got a ride," which sounds shady as fuck, and he's not meeting their eyes, and his stepfather is raising his eyebrows and looking at him concernedly. 

"A ride from who?" his mom presses.

"Someone," Liam says, his voice pleading with her to drop it. Of course, she doesn't, because she's curious about what he's been doing the last few weeks.

"Someone?" she asks, starting to smile.

"Yeah. Someone," he says defensively.

His mother's smile widens. "Liam, have you got a girlfriend?" she asks.

"Um," Liam says nervously. "Sort of? I mean that's - that's kind of the situation we're in. So sort of. But also not really a... girlfriend?" He's lost them; he can tell by the expressions on their faces that he's doing that thing Brett scolds him for, where he rambles without actually saying anything until someone stops him. 

He eats a spoonful of mashed potato, chewing with his eyes trained on the table, ignoring the mystified expression on his mother's face. "Is she your girlfriend, Liam?" she asks gently. "Or just a friend?"

His dad's looking at him with dawning realisation; Liam prays with every fibre of his being that he steps in to help, because he can't quite seem to choke the words out of his throat. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?" his dad asks.

Liam slumps. " _Yes_ ," he moans. "Thank you." He never thought he'd be so grateful to be outed at the dinner table by his stepfather, but here he is, fucking overjoyed about not having to say it himself.

"A boyfriend?" His mother has absolutely no business looking that surprised, Liam thinks mutinously. "Liam, are you sure he's your boyfriend?" she asks gently. "Or have you just been hanging out a lot?"

_Hanging out with his dick in my mouth, yeah_ , Liam thinks dryly, but he doesn't say that. Instead, he says, "Yeah. I'm sure. We hang out a lot but he's - yeah."

"You've talked about it?" she presses. 

"Yes, Mom," he moans. "You want proof or something?" 

"He's definitely your boyfriend, then?"

"Yeah. Definitely." Fuck, he's starting to blush. He takes a few gulps of water. He's not sure "boyfriend" even covers the amount of shit Brett has done for him in the last month. 

"What's he like?" His revelation doesn't seem to have surprised his mom for long; she's straight back to gushing.

"He gets good grades," Liam says feebly. "He's smart. Plays lacrosse." What else is there to say? He's a werewolf? He saved my life a week ago? He's been sneaking in the window upstairs to hang out while you two have been down here? 

"It's not Stiles, is it?" she asks hesitantly.

"God, Mom, no, it's not Stiles," he moans. "Stiles has a girlfriend. You'll meet him eventually. I'll bring him around or something." Brett is going to think this is hilarious; Liam's not looking forward to the conversation. 

"Is it Mason?"

"Mason's my best friend!" Liam squawks indignantly. "That'd be weird."

"Well, make sure you let me know when he's coming around so I can make a nice dinner," she says cheerfully. "This is nice. Do your friends know?"

"They know." _And they snicker about it all the time, too_ , Liam thinks, poking at his plate. _Probably because they can smell Brett on me all the time_...

"There's no need to look so anguished." Dean's hand is on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, son," he says. "We're just glad you're happy."

"I'm not anguished or gay," Liam protests feebly. 

"Not gay?" his mother asks.

"No I'm - I don't know." Liam shrugs self-consciously. "He's just different," he mutters. "That's all." He's going to die of embarrassment if he doesn't get out of here soon. "May I be excused?" he asks weakly.

"Of course. But tell him to come round, sweetie!"

"I will," Liam says, taking his plate to the kitchen and making a beeline for his bedroom. 

He shuts the door when he gets inside, throwing himself down on his bed. It went better than expected, but he'll never recover from the mortification of it all. Mortification that Brett will inevitably add to when Liam tells him his parents know. 

He pulls out his phone and opens a new text to Mason.

**To** : Mason Hewitt, 6:15PM  
Told my parents about Brett

It doesn't take long for him to get a response; he's on his way to the bathroom to shower when his phone vibrates, and he picks it up.

**From** : Mason Hewitt, 6:17PM  
Really? How'd it go?

Liam thinks about it. It didn't go badly, exactly. Not the way he wanted it to, but nothing important really does, because no matters how much he plans what he's going to say in his head, he trips over the words once it's time for him to actually speak.

**To** : Mason Hewitt, 6:18PM  
They think I'm gay and anguished

"Liam!" 

He groans, slumps face-down on the bed and prays for death. What could his mother possibly want with him now? There's no way she's managed to make a happy coming-out cake or anything as equally as ridiculous as that in this amount of time.

"Liam!"

"Okay," he yells back, runs down the stairs because he's pretty eager to get this over with.

When he enters the living room, they're both sitting on the couch, and his mother is giving him a smile he thinks is meant to be reassuring but just sort of freaks him out. "Okay," he says slowly. "This reminds me of the intervention you guys held when I played GTA 5 for almost eight hours straight." 

"We just wanted to have a chat," Dean says. "About your boyfriend."

Oh God. This is it. Everything he feared. "Yeah?" he asks warily, sitting down. 

His mother nods. "It's not really any of our business, Liam," she says. "But you're fifteen-"

"Almost sixteen," he points out.

"Almost sixteen. How old is your boyfriend?"

"Seventeen," Liam says reluctantly. "He's a junior." 

"We just want to make sure you're being safe," she says. "We can't really stop you from having sex-"

Liam chokes because oh God she at least could have been subtle about it. "Mom," he says weakly. "Mom, that's not-"

"Any of our business, we know," she says soothingly. "We just want you to know that you can come to us, okay, if you're unsure about anything."

He thinks this is probably one of those scenarios in which reassuring her that he knows exactly what he's doing is more likely to make her shocked and angry, not calm, so he keeps that to himself.

"We want you to be safe," Dean says. "And that means taking it slow and using protection. This is your first relationship, Liam. And I think we're both relieved that no one is going to end up accidentally pregnant, but just because you have no previous experience doesn't mean your boyfriend doesn't, and it's important to use protection." 

He can't believe this is happening. And he can't even say they are using protection because they're not and fuck, can he get pregnant? Can male werewolves get pregnant? Is that a thing? Surely Brett would have told him but-

"Liam?"

"Right," he says. "Safe sex. Got it. Um, this has been fun, but can I go now? I have tests. A lot of tests."

They both smile and nod. As he stands, his mom says, "What's his name, sweetie?"

"Brett," Liam says awkwardly. "His name is Brett." 

~*~

**To** : Brett Talbot, 6:49PM  
Can a male werewolf get pregnant?

He sends the text before he can talk himself out of it - there's no fucking way he's asking Scott or Stiles because Scott would lecture him on condoms as well and Stiles would probably ruthlessly make fun of him.

And Malia would probably just tell him something really weird and Lydia's unconscious and Kira's not here. Kira's honestly the one he'd like to go to about most of this stuff because he feels like she's at least as awkward as him - whenever he feels bad about himself he just remembers that Kira fell down the stairs trying to seduce him. Although it did work, so he probably still holds the title for most awkward pack member.

His phone lights up.

**From** : Brett Talbot, 6:57PM  
What the fuck, Liam 

Liam scrunches his nose up and tosses his phone aside. It was a serious question. The piping and hardware could be all different for all he fucking knows, and Brett's snarking is greatly unappreciated.

He spreads out on his bed with a few textbooks and his binder, intending to do some schoolwork, but he's only there for half an hour before there's a soft tap on his window.

He turns around and sees Brett's face there, giving him a pleading expression. Liam stands up and opens the window. "Better be quiet," he says softly. "My parents are downstairs."

"You got something to tell me?" Brett asks, reaching out and rubbing Liam's belly. "I mean, it's probably just a food baby." 

Liam shoves him. "It was a genuine question," he whines.

"Yeah, I gathered, and the answer is no," Brett says. "Unless you've got some equipment you're not telling me about."

"I don't," Liam grumbles. "I just got worried."

Brett smiles. "I know. How very Liam of you. But why?" 

"Mom and Dad talked to me about safe sex," Liam says, "and were happy that I'm not gonna get anyone pregnant, but then I thought, we don't use condoms, and for all I know something changed when I got bitten and-"

"Wait." Brett's smile is widening. "Your parents gave you the talk?"

Liam covers his face with a pillow so Brett can't get any satisfaction from seeing him blush and nods. It might be hilarious for Brett but it isn't for Liam - it's just a thousand different kinds of humiliating and embarrassing.

"Why didn't you just tell them?" Brett asks, and Liam can tell he's barely suppressing a laugh, so he lowers the pillow to glare.

"I thought that telling them they're about a month too late and that my first sexual encounter was in Sinema may have been a bit much for them to handle," he snarks. "And probably also would've made them lock me inside forever." 

Brett shrugs one shoulder. "Well, you didn't have to tell them about Sinema," he suggests. "Just, you know, explain that you've already been deflowered-" 

"I hate that word."

"-And that you're responsible and blah, blah, blah. You know. What parents want to hear."

"Yeah. What my parents want to hear is, "Mom, Dad, when you were gone, I somehow got into a gay relationship with a guy I used to hate and had him round every night so we could screw each other. That's what I was doing every time I didn't answer the phone. Oh, and also, he's been sneaking into the house every night while you guys are blissfully unaware downstairs". That would go down really well."

Brett's outright laughing at him now. "You don't have to say any of that either, you dork," he chuckles. "All you have to do is say, "don't worry, we're being safe" and leave it at that." 

Liam bristles. "Have you met me? Every time I open my mouth when I'm nervous I just talk until someone stops me." 

Brett smiles, crawls up Liam's body and rests against him. "I think it's cute," he says.

Liam snarls, pulling the pillow back over his face. "Fuck you. I'm not cute."

"Yes you are," Brett says pleasantly. "I'm actually kinda sad you don't have a little werewolf bun in the oven. He or she would be absolutely adorable."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Liam asks. "You want angry little werewolf babies?"

"I'd prefer them not to be angry but I'll take what I can get. Just think, Li. Little angry mini Liams running around, closely pursued by much more mellow little Bretts." 

"I'm a freak for asking if I can get pregnant but you're not a freak for even entertaining the idea? Go fuck yourself, Talbot." 

Brett crawls up his body, his hand snaking down Liam's sweatpants to get a deliciously firm grip on his dick. "I'd rather fuck you," he says softly, and Liam's dick swells gratefully and eagerly at the attention it's getting.

Liam resists the urge to roll his hips up. "Stop it," he whispers. "My parents are right downstairs. We aren't doing that again."

Brett pouts at him. "Come on, Li..."

"No," Liam says firmly. "And stop doing that before I change my answer."

Brett smiles toothily at him, but he takes his hand away. "We could always just... pick up where we left off," he murmurs. "Before. In the car. That was fucking awesome."

"Yeah?" Liam rolls on top of Brett and sits up once he's astride his pelvis. "Why?"

"You were all assertive. It was hot as hell."

On cue, Liam starts to blush. "Uh huh."

"No," Brett says firmly, tugging him down. "Don't do that. Just do what you were doing before. It was great." 

Liam leans down - he's got more room now, which is great, because Brett's gripping his hips and digging his thumbs into the bones there the way Liam really likes it. He tries not to moan at the sensation but he seriously feels like he's discovering his dick all over again, and Brett is touching him in all the ways he loves being touched - firm and hard and just shy of bruising. 

He wonders if maybe he can get Brett to lick his neck a little, give him some very temporary hickeys, and then he remembers that awhile ago Brett mentioned he likes having his neck played with as well, so Liam leans down a little further and puts his mouth over Brett's artery, which is pounding away beneath his tongue, and starts licking, gently, then sucking.

He hears Brett give a quiet, muted groan above him, and he's holding Liam's head suddenly, his hand fisted into Liam's hair like he's trying to make sure Liam stays there. And when he whispers, "Harder," Liam listens and picks up the force behind his sucking.

Brett's other hand snakes up his side, and his fingers are pressing into the dimples in Liam's back at the base of his spine, and Liam feels his fangs grow before he can control it. He starts paying attention to Brett's chemo signals right as Brett hisses, finds that Brett really seems to be enjoying himself, so he kind of scrapes his fangs along the vein under his mouth, soothes the twin lines with the pad of his tongue.

"Fuck," Brett croaks. "Stop, Li, stop."

Liam pulls away from him. "Did I do something wrong?" he asks hesitantly.

Brett's panting beneath him; his throat is marked right from the base to the underside of his chin. "No," he croaks. "No, you're great. But if you keep going I'm going to bend you over and fuck you right here and I don't think that's a good idea with your parents downstairs."

"I think it sounds like a great idea," Liam says.

"Of course you do," Brett says, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Fuck, Liam. When the hell did you get good at any of that?"

Liam blushes again. "I dunno. I guess-"

He feels his chest and throat tighten up in the middle of his sentence, and the next thing he knows - before he has an opportunity to get off Brett - he's exploded into a fit of coughing that has his lungs searing with the need for air and his eyes watering. 

Brett somehow gets out from under him and gets him to move to the edge of the bed. Liam keeps coughing, getting panicky when he realises he can't quite breathe, and hears Brett swear quietly. Then Brett's leaving for a moment and comes back, pushes something soft up under Liam's face. 

"You're okay," he soothes. "You know it'll be over soon."

Liam's not sure why Brett's got a towel under his face until he feels something in his throat, coughs, and ends up spitting out black mucus. He's shaking when he finally manages to stop, eyes streaming from the effort.

Brett takes the towel away from his face for a moment, flips it over, and starts wiping his lips and chin. "You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," Liam says hoarsely. "I'm alright."

"Good." Brett leans up - he's kneeling on the floor in front of Liam - and kisses his forehead gently. "We'd better get down to the hospital soon," he murmurs. "Dialysis will help."

"Liam?"

Brett ducks down behind Liam's bed, hiding around the side of it, as there's a knock on his door and his stepfather enters. "Are you alright?" he asks, concerned. "We heard you coughing up here. Sounds awful."

"I'm okay." Liam smiles. "I just drank water the wrong way." 

The glass on his bedside table at least makes that a semi-plausible story. His stepfather smiles and nods. "Alright. Get some sleep, okay? It's a school day tomorrow." 

"I will. Night."

"Night, Liam."

When his stepfather closes the door, Brett slowly climbs back up onto the bed and puts his hand on Liam's back. "You wanna go once they're asleep?" he asks softly.

"Yeah." Liam fidgets with the hem of his sweats, looking at the duvet cover as he takes a deep breath and says, "Brett, I wanna tell them."

"About me being here?" Brett asks confusedly.

Liam shakes his head. "About being a werewolf," he says quietly. "About... what happened last week. I want to tell them."

Brett sits up straighter, doesn't say anything, and looks at Liam with an unreadable expression.

"They deserve to know," Liam says uncomfortably. "They've been wondering why I'm acting so weird lately, and I could've died while they were gone. I know Mrs. McCall would've called them if she thought I was going to, but... if something happens, again, they should know why. Instead of Sheriff Stilinski just... putting red tape all over it."

Brett nods slowly. "Okay. So... how're you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," Liam says miserably. "Somehow I think they'll be a little less receptive to me being a werewolf than they will me having a boyfriend." 

"They're gonna love you the same," Brett says gently.

"They're going to send me to my psychologist for another evaluation," Liam points out. "Unless I actually prove it to them, and the last time I did that, I got punched in the face. Besides, how do I know they won't call animal control on me?" 

Brett looks like he wants to say that that's ridiculous and would never happen, but he doesn't, and Liam's glad for that because Brett can't promise it to him. For all they know his stepfather might try to cure him of being a werewolf. Liam doesn't even wanna imagine how that would go down.

"It's shit," he says finally. "I have to come out twice."

Brett laughs. "Yeah. I'm sorry. But hey, I'll be there while you do it if you want. Back you up. Then if we get shipped off to Eichen House we'll at least be together."

"With Lydia," Liam says, and the mood in the room drops considerably. Brett puts his face against Liam's, looking down into his eyes.

"We're gonna get them back, Li," he says quietly. "All of them."

"Right. Lydia's insane, Scott and Stiles are hardly talking and Malia's trying to keep everyone together," Liam says bitterly. "Meanwhile I can't go more than a day without almost choking to death and my parents don't even know, and my stepdad is a doctor." 

"Hey," Brett says soothingly. "I didn't say things weren't crap now. But they won't always be." 

Liam remembers something, then. "A month ago, on the full moon," he says, "Scott and Stiles chained me to a tree-"

Brett raises his eyebrows. "They what?"

"To stop me from transforming and terrorising everyone like I did the month before," Liam says guiltily. "Anyway, I heard Scott telling Stiles something that Deaton told him - it was called regression to the mean or something. Anyway, the idea is that things can't always be bad or good, and that life kind of swings between the two."

"Well," Brett says, "considering how generally shitty it's been lately, we're due for some good luck, aren't we?"

Liam tries to smile. "I hope you're right." 

~*~

This wing of the hospital is always pretty dark.

Mrs. McCall has a room set up that Liam's pretty sure is exclusively used by him during dialysis. There's a TV in the corner, but he's pretty sure that that's for Brett's benefit - because the drugs used to numb his arm still make him sort of groggy and sleepy.

He sits up on the bed when he's ordered to, tries to quell the nerves as Mrs. McCall gets everything ready, warns him about the Lidocaine. He hates the stuff even more than he doesn't like having two needles shoved into his arm for four hours.

"Ready, Liam?" Mrs. McCall asks.

"Uh huh," Liam says. Brett's looking away; he's not good with needles. 

He winces when the drug enters his bloodstream, burning all the way up like ice set on fire. He hopes it fades out soon; Mrs. McCall's getting his lines started, and Brett's talking.

"Should we tell my stepdad about this?" he asks groggily.

He sees them both pause. Mrs. McCall strokes his hair back from his forehead - it's kind of a habit of hers. "We can if you want to, sweetie," she says cautiously, and he sees her cut a look at Brett. "Is there any reason why?" 

"They should know," Liam insists sleepily. He hates this drug, and the fact that his healing still isn't good enough to nullify its side effects. "I almost died."

"But you didn't," she says soothingly. "We brought you back."

"But what if you hadn't?" Liam asks. "I know it's kind of gonna be a shitty subject to bring up but... yeah. Maybe they should know. And my stepdad's a doctor." 

Mrs. McCall keeps stroking his hair. "Let us know what you want to do, sweetie, and we'll help you do it," she says. "But right now you should focus on getting through this round of dialysis, okay?"

"Okay," Liam mumbles. His vision blurs a little, and while he can hear Brett talking to him - something about lacrosse - it's hard to make sense of the words past the sudden confusion and drowsiness. 

"I hate this stuff," he says, talking right over the top of Brett.

Brett leans into his vision, and Liam tracks him slowly, knowing his reflexes are slowing down. "I know," Brett says. "But it's not for much longer." 

Liam rolls onto his side, curls up with his shoes still on and his arm stretched out to accommodate the needles. He watches Brett drowsily, moving in his vision, feels a thick, heavy blanket land over him.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

He feels Brett's hand in his hair, dozes off to it. When he opens his eyes again, Brett's leaning back in the plastic chair, his feet up on the bed, focussed intently on whatever is being reported on the news. Liam can hear the dull, monotonous speech of a reporter in the background.

"Hey," Brett says when he notices Liam. "You're awake."

"Mm. Kind of." He feels like he could sleep again, but begins to sit upright. He's still feeling kind of confused, drowsy, from the Lidocaine injection. "You don't have to stay," he says hoarsely, voice rough from disuse. "I mean, it's not like I'm very interesting."

Brett shrugs. "You talk in your sleep."

Liam freezes. "I what?"

"You talk in your sleep." 

Liam's heart starts hammering, unable to tell if Brett's joking or not. He didn't think he did but - maybe he does? When he's having nightmares? But the Lidocaine always knocks him out so much he doesn't dream, so-

"Liam, I'm joking," Brett says gently. "You don't talk in your sleep. Usually." 

"Usually?"

"When you do it's just random stuff, mostly," Brett says. He's reclined back in his chair and Liam admires the broad, muscular set of his shoulders, the veins in his arms, the way his waist narrows and tapers.

Brett looks at him and smirks and, damn it, even though Brett's his boyfriend and he's allowed to look Liam blushes furiously and looks away. With his parents back - and him just generally being sick - they haven't done much more than make out. Brett fingering Liam was the first thing they'd done in a long time, and Liam's, well, he's horny, okay?

"Down, boy," Brett teases, motioning at Liam's jeans. "Glad to see that particular piece of equipment still works." 

"Shut up," Liam mutters.

Brett leans forward, right into his space, and murmurs, "Don't worry. I miss it too."

Liam tries not to let his eyes flick from Brett's eyes to his lips, but he can't help it. "Miss what?" he mumbles.

"You." Brett shifts closer. "Being inside you," he whispers. "Hearing you moan. Feeling it when you come... getting to see it. I miss all of it."

Liam swallows. He's fairly sure all his blood is being redirected from the dialysis machine straight to his dick. He's never looked at himself and thought he'd be with a guy, let alone that he'd be the one on his back most of the time, but now he can't deny that that's what his body wants - that he loves being pinned and stretched and fucked, and now, damn it, he's thinking about it. About Brett being inside him and pumping slowly in and out-

"Heartbeat, Li," Brett murmurs. 

"Don't care," Liam mumbles, pulling Brett down to his level and into a kiss. And then Brett's climbing onto the hospital bed with him and pulling the blanket over Liam's waist, whispers, "Gotta keep quiet, okay?" and he barely gives Liam a chance to comprehend what he's saying before one hand is snaking up Liam's shirt to play with his nipples and the other is massaging his dick over his jeans.

Liam sinks his teeth into his lower lip, letting his legs fall open. He absolutely does not give a fuck that they're in a hospital; it feels too good to stop Brett now.

"Think about me," Brett whispers to him. He's so close Liam can feel his breath ghosting over his cheek. "About how good it feels when I start stretching you, real slow. How I play with your nipples." With that, he tweaks one, and Liam's cock pulses desperately in his pants. "How I'm so, so slow going in..." 

"Brett," Liam says. It's a half-whisper, half-moan, and he's canting his hips up. "Brett, please-"

"Please what?" Brett murmurs. The teasing tone of his voice has Liam gnawing at his lower lip and gripping the sheets. 

"Touch me properly," he whispers. "Not just over my jeans."

Brett grins at him. "Okay," he says. "If you say so. You're gonna make a mess, though."

"Don't care." Liam sighs as Brett's hand slides into his jeans, then his boxers, grasping at him. "Yeah, it's definitely working," he breathes.

Brett laughs, low, as he thumbs at the head of Liam's dick. "Damn, Liam," he whispers. "You're already wet. That eager, huh?"

"It's been a long time," Liam whines. "Stop making fun of me." 

Brett grips him harder, twists his hand as he strokes up, and Liam tries not to tremble as obviously as he is. "Making fun of you is half the fun," Brett teases him gently. "But okay. I'll just get on with it." 

"Good. Okay. Um," Liam moans as Brett deliberately presses the heel of his hand into Liam's balls, "um, Brett, I don't wanna be too loud, we're kind of in-"

Brett's hand snakes up to his mouth, and two of his fingers prod at Liam's lips. "Suck on them," he whispers. "Should keep you quiet."

Liam obeys pretty much straight away, tastes the bite of salt on Brett's skin and rasps his tongue over the sensitive flesh between Brett's fingers, and he swears Brett grips him harder and makes a low noise of want. 

"Like that?" Brett whispers. "Having something to suck on while I get you off?"

Liam makes a noise in his throat, but it's not like he can verbally answer while he's sucking on Brett's fingers. He rolls his hips up - he's pretty close already - and tries to keep his arm still, because he's still on dialysis, which he'd sort of forgotten until now. 

"That's it, baby," Brett coos. "That's it. Easy."

Liam squeezes his eyes shut. He thinks about Brett, their first - and so far only - time together, the weight of Brett between his hips and inside him, the slide of Brett entering his body, and he feels a hot flush as he imagines what it might be like if Brett really slammed him, got rough with him, fucked him really hard-

Brett's hand squeezes him and Liam comes, hard, mostly inside his boxers and on Brett's hand, breathing hard through his nose. He rides the waves of ecstasy as Brett slows his pace down, stroking lightly, before pulling away.

"I'm gonna clean you up," Brett whispers.

Liam nods. He turns his head to watch what Brett's doing as Brett leaves the room, then comes back with a wet washcloth and starts cleaning them both up. 

"Want me to do you?" Liam asks.

Brett smiles and shakes his head. "Maybe later. When you aren't tied up to a machine." He gets back on the bed and pulls Liam in close to him. "You should get some more sleep."

Liam yawns widely. "I suppose." 

It's not like there's anything else to do anyway.

~*~

Liam's not sure how he and Brett ended up scrap-fighting after school, but he's getting exhausted. Okay, he knows a little - he'd gotten dropped off only to see that both his parents were gone and had quickly ushered Brett inside, and after a few choice words about Guardians of the Galaxy, Liam may have been the instigator of the fight he's currently losing.

So he doesn't have the stamina yet that he did before he got sick; he's still recovering, and Brett's a little stronger, and right now he's wrestling Liam into submission and laughing the whole time.

Liam's sort of laughing too, because this has always been fun - he likes play fighting because he gets to blow off some steam and get a workout - but he's starting to feel tired, and he's hoping that he either wins soon or Brett lets him off the hook. Mostly because he's just tired, but also because he's starting to get hard and doesn't want Brett to make fun of him for it.

"Brett," he says, and just as he manages to get up, sort of, Brett topples him back over. Liam grunts when Brett's full weight lands on his stomach and hips, stopping him from squirming; Liam struggles but he knows that from here, Brett's effectively won their little tussle. There's a pretty big part of Liam that kind of wanted to let him, too. 

Brett smirks down at him when he's sitting astride Liam's thighs. "Told you I'm stronger," he teases.

Liam reaches up, meaning to instigate round two of their scrap-fighting - his hard-on be damned, he's gonna win this now - but Brett swiftly grabs his wrist as he raises it and pins it to the mattress beside his head. Liam snarls, pushes upright, but Brett's grip is like iron where he's squeezing. Liam might be honestly trying to get his hand up so he can take a swipe, but Brett's honest-to-God pinning him and, okay, Liam's trying not to think about how happy that makes his dick.

He struggles again. Brett pushes down, making his wrist ache, and smirks at him, quirking an eyebrow. "Cute, Liam," he says.

The next logical step Liam can think of is to use his other hand, but Brett pins that one too, leaning his whole weight down to hold him there. Liam struggles a little more, but it's half-hearted at best now; he's not really trying to get away anymore. The pressure of Brett's pelvis on his dick feels pretty great, and so does being restrained the way he is.

He gives a final wriggle, pushes his hips up into Brett's pelvis, and whines. Brett smirks at him.

"You really love this, huh?" he asks.

Liam feels himself flush with embarrassment. "Is that bad?" He's pretty sure they've covered this but it can't hurt to go over it again. Just in case.

"No," Brett says. "It's hot." 

Liam pushes his pelvis up, wincing slightly when Brett's weight shifts onto his wrists more. He's trying to dislodge Brett, because it doesn't seem like this is really going anywhere, and he'd rather not have blue balls for the rest of the night. 

Brett sits up, obligingly, lets his wrists go, and rolls off him, sliding up to the headboard and reclining against it. Liam sighs, begins to sit up properly. His nipples are hard, visible through his t-shirt, and he tugs at it, cursing his body's reactions to Brett and Lydia's stupid no-baggy-shirts policy. 

Liam rises to his knees, intending to change out of jeans and into sweats, but he doesn't get much of a chance. He hears Brett move behind him, only gets to turn halfway around before Brett's wrapping an arm around his waist and tightening it, securing Liam against his torso. 

Liam freezes as his dick gives a desperate, needy throb, wondering what the hell Brett is doing. He's confused, but he's willing to play along - he squirms a bit, seeing if Brett will let him go or if he means business this time around.

Brett's arm tightens, forcing some of the air out of him; his arms are pinned to his sides and he can't move much. He settles, satisfied that Brett's grip is tight enough for whatever it is he's planning. 

They stay like that for a few seconds, and Liam sniffs a little, realises Brett smells kind of nervous. He's about to ask why when he hears - feels - Brett move his other arm, his fingers tracing across Liam's throat, before he says, "tell me to stop and I will."

Liam's about to ask why, but Brett's arm has encircled his throat, Liam's neck in the crook of his elbow. The hold isn't tight, at all, but it's enough to turn Liam on - he can't really move, he can feel Brett's heart beating against his back. He lets out a breath and says nothing, tilts his head back, hoping Brett gets the point and tightens his hold a bit. Maybe - not enough to really constrict his breathing, but enough to put pressure on his throat? That'd be good. If he could feel it like that.

He gets a surge of excitement when Brett takes the hint and tightens his arm until Liam swallows, the movement slightly hindered by the pressure, tilts his head back more. Brett's other arm is tight and secure just beneath his sternum, and Liam can feel the veins in his neck throbbing with the pressure against them. Yeah, this is good. This is pretty great actually. He likes this. 

"Got you," Brett murmurs, right into the shell of his ear. Liam feels his body erupt into shakes and goosebumps, a hot coil of want curled up loosely in his stomach, can't look down to confirm but knows he's pretty hard. Brett ruts against his ass, gently, and Liam feels the bulge there. 

He whines - and shit, he's got to stop making noises like that - and wriggles a bit, but Brett restrains him harder, says, "No," and Liam realises that he's totally helpless, on his knees, completely under Brett's control. At least, that's the illusion. Liam knows Brett would stop if Liam told him to.

"Want me to hold you tighter?" Brett whispers. 

"Yeah." His voice comes out as a croak. He appreciates being given the option, doesn't think he'd really like having all his agency taken away.

Brett tightens his grip, and he doesn't stop until Liam utters a soft, heated moan. There's more than a little pressure on his throat now - his chin is resting on the crook of Brett's elbow, head forced upright - but he loves it. Loves giving Brett this power over him.

"You okay?" Brett asks.

Liam takes a moment to collect himself; Brett's clearly nervous and Liam knows he needs to hear actual words, not just half-formed noises of arousal. "I'm okay," he breathes out. "I'm great."

Brett chuckles. Liam waits, but he doesn't do anything else; he realises, after about a minute, that Brett's waiting to see how long Liam can hold still without breaking. 

He holds his position, but his legs are sort of shaky even though there's not really much weight on them - Brett's holding most of him upright now - and he's desperate for some kind of friction on his dick. He's hoping, if he can just stay still long enough, that Brett'll take pity on him and finally get him off or something, or at least let him do it himself-

"Stay where you are," Brett orders suddenly. His voice is low, and Liam waits, spine rigid, until Brett slides his arm slowly away from Liam's sternum. His hand creeps down, then skims him lightly through his jeans.

Liam bites back a noise and stays where he is. "This needs some attention," Brett murmurs, stroking him through his jeans. Liam can't quite call back the next noise his makes, and he sways forward a little, then corrects himself. He really needs Brett to touch him.

Brett's grip tightens and he starts kneading the base of Liam's dick with the heel of his hand, so hard it's almost painful. Liam realises he's kind of panting now, mouth open, and he'll probably be embarrassed about it later, but for now he doesn't care.

Brett's hand snaps open the button of his jeans, pulls the zipper down, and then he's sliding his hand inside, grasping at him. Liam vaguely knows that the noise he makes is on the verge of being a sob, but he doesn't care; he's given up on holding still and he's rutting up against Brett's hand desperately. 

Brett's arm moves from his neck so suddenly Liam's head drops forward - he wasn't expecting that - and then it's wrapping around his hips and bending him forward and over. Brett's pushing his dick against Liam's ass, and Liam moans, holding onto the duvet beneath him. 

He lands stomach-down with a soft grunt when Brett jerks his legs out from underneath him, pushes against the mattress instead. He's kind of disgruntled about not being pinned anymore - wants to tell Brett that stopping halfway through takes all the fun out of it - but even as he turns around, raising up on one arm to try and look at Brett reproachfully, Brett pushes him back down, twists the offending arm up behind his back, and says, "No."

His grip is pretty gentle, nothing Liam can't escape or protest if it's really hurting him, and Liam wriggles, says, "Please, Brett." He doesn't even know what he's asking for at this point.

"Please what?"

Liam squirms in Brett's grasp. "Do something," he begs. "Anything. I don't care what-"

Brett slides an arm under Liam's hips and pulls him upright, onto his knees, leaving his shoulders and face pressed to the mattress. Then he's yanking Liam's jeans and boxers down like he's done with playing and reaches round to thumb at the head of his dick. Liam moans, tries to push forward, but Brett keeps the touch light, his grip on Liam's arm tightening warningly.

"Anything?" he asks softly.

"Anything," Liam agrees frantically. He's so desperate to get off he doesn't care what happens next. 

The next thing Liam hears is the snap of a bottle uncapping, and his shaking ramps up again, his body anticipating what's coming next. He clenches the fingers on his restrained wrist.

"You trust me... to do anything?" Brett asks quietly. 

"Anything," Liam repeats. "I trust you." He knows Brett's asking seriously this time.

He thinks Brett might nod, but he can't see it. "Okay," he says, and Liam feels him at his entrance, the cold of the lube, before Brett's pushing into him slowly, carefully. 

Liam's mouth drops open a little; this angle feels completely different to being on his back. He gives a bit of a moan, pushes back, clenched up and tight around Brett's finger. He hears Brett lick his lips.

"You like this?"

Liam nods, kind of lost for words - between being fingered and restrained he's really having the time of his life - and pushes back again. Brett gives a low laugh.

"You're needy today," he comments.

Liam's working up a smart-ass reply when another finger nudges at his entrance, then pushes in beside the first, and he just tries to remember that his claws, if they grow, will rip the sheets. He can feel his fangs pricking at his lower lip uncomfortably, knows that his eyes are probably glowing as well. He hears someone make a small cry, then realises it's him. 

"That's it," Brett murmurs. "Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you."

Liam shudders as Brett scissors his fingers out, pushes in deeper. He's stroking and curling and nudging Liam's prostate with just enough pressure, and soon enough Liam's sweating and okay, he might be begging Brett a little to get a move on, but not that much. It's only because his dick is weeping precome, straining and desperate for release, completely untouched. 

He feels a flare of heat in his stomach and slows down his rocking. "Brett," he croaks warningly. He's getting pretty close and he's not going to be able to hold back; his whole body is vibrating with arousal and he wants something more. 

"You wanna come?" Brett purrs. "Show me you've earned it." 

Liam scrabbles against the duvet cover. "I want you to fuck me," he moans. 

Brett pauses. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Please." 

"You always ask me so nicely." He hears Brett slick himself up. "You okay like this?" 

"Can I get up?"

Brett lets his arm go and Liam puts his palms against the mattress, taking the pressure off his shoulders and neck finally. "Better?"

"I will be," Liam says. "Hurry up."

"Bossy," Brett murmurs, but then he's sliding inside and Liam tries to hold back the groan that exits him but he can't - it feels too good to have Brett inside him, and he can't pretend otherwise - and he's leaning forward. Brett's hot and wide inside him, heavy, and it feels so fucking good-

"Jesus, Liam," Brett pants. "Let me in on the fun."

"Huh?" Liam realises he's been making a pretty constant stream of noise. "Oh." Brett's weight, curled over him, is deliciously smothering. He shudders when Brett takes his dick and tugs on it, torturously slow, as he starts pumping his hips.

Liam gasps as Brett slowly sinks in, nudging right up against that spot inside that feels fucking fantastic, and Liam wants to beg Brett to really hammer it - his parents aren't home so he could, he could ask Brett to fuck him properly-

"I've wanted to do this since I got you off at the hospital," Brett groans. "I've wanted to fuck you for so long-"

Liam trembles, thinking about Brett actively wanting to fuck him, spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate Brett's girth inside him. "Yeah," he pants. "That's what I was thinking about." He groans when Brett brushes his prostate again.

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

Brett's hands move to his hips, holding him steady as he begins to pick up the pace and Liam swears his eyes roll back into his head. "You feel great," Brett murmurs. "You're okay? Doesn't hurt?"

"No, feels awesome," Liam whines. 

"Hey, Liam?"

"Yeah," Liam moans, wondering what the hell Brett could possibly want when he's already balls-deep inside.

"Can I have you on your back?"

Liam nods, and Brett pulls out, waits for Liam to roll over, and then pushes back in, slowly. Liam bites his lip desperately, says, "you can have me any way you want me." 

Brett curls over his body, puts his hands on either side of Liam's face, and gets close to him as he starts pumping his hips slowly. "I want you any way you'll take me," he replies softly, and Liam feels that weird feeling in his chest again, because Brett's looking at him the way he did before, with that next-level fondness Liam doesn't know how to identify. And this, the sex itself, feels different, because Brett's going slower and making sure Liam can feel every inch of him inside, and his hands are exploring Liam's torso even as he licks at Liam's neck softly. Liam's making a gasping sound with every thrust Brett makes - he feels full and stretched and fucking awesome, really - and Brett's ducking his head so his forehead is somewhere near Liam's cheek.

"You feel really good," Brett pants into Liam's neck. "Really tight. You're amazing."

Liam blushes, but he's not really that embarrassed, because he's feeling pretty good about being on his back with Brett pumping in and out of him too. He concentrates on the feeling of Brett stretching him open, sliding in and out, brushing against every sensitive spot inside him except the one he wants touched the most, and, before he can stop himself, he whimpers. 

Brett stops moving, surprised; Liam can't really say he blames him, because that was most definitely a high-pitched, distinctly weepy noise, and he knows Brett is probably confused about why it came out of his mouth. Liam's not sure he knows either; it all feels fantastic, and with Brett going slow, he can feel every individual movement, and it's driving him up the wall.

"Liam?" Brett asks quietly.

"I'm okay," Liam moans. "It just feels really good." He loves having Brett inside him, alive and pulsing with need, keeping him wide open and stretched out.

"Yeah?" Brett asks, smiling. "Any requests?"

"Maybe you should bite me again," Liam groans, digging the heels of his feet into Brett's back and pulling him in close. "And go faster, _please_."

Brett picks up the pace a little, and Liam squirms, trying not to whimper again because this pace is fantastic - it's not slow but it's also not ruthless, just somewhere steady in the middle that has him shaking with pleasure but not quite enough to come. 

At least Brett seems like he's coming undone as well; he leans his head down and kisses Liam's throat, gently, before saying, "Enjoying yourself?" and Liam wonders vaguely what he's talking about until he feels Brett's hand close around his dick. He moans and arches up into the touch.

"You're so hard," Brett murmurs. "If I fuck you any harder than this you're gonna come." 

"This is good," Liam croaks back. "What you're doing."

"The speed?"

"Yeah."

Brett smiles, tilts Liam's hips up a little, pushes forward - and Liam sees stars in his vision as Brett's dick rubs that spot inside him, hard, feels his dick blurt out a stream of precome, almost like a warning."Fuck," he whispers. "Brett-"

"That's it," Brett says, smiling. "That's the spot."

"Yeah, it's a _great_ spot, keep hitting it," Liam moans. "Please," he adds on the end, just to make sure he doesn't sound rude.

Brett starts aiming for that spot in earnest, and it only takes a few thrusts before Liam's writhing on the sheets, scratching Brett's back and making some pretty embarrassing noises from the pleasure of it. Brett's fucking him pretty steadily, and hard enough for it to feel amazing, but not hard enough for him to come, even with Brett's cock stroking his prostate on every thrust. Liam's resisting the urge to touch himself, because once he does it's all over, but his dick is straining against his stomach and he's so hard it's gonna get painful soon. 

"Already messy," Brett pants.

"Huh?"

Brett nods at Liam's stomach, which is smeared with copious amounts of precome. "You're already messy," he says, "and you haven't even come yet." As if Liam's dick knows it's being discussed, it pulses with another few beads of precome. Brett smirks.

"I'm trying not to," Liam groans, and then he fucking whimpers when Brett unintentionally hits that spot hard. "Fuck, Brett, if you do that again-"

"I just like that noise you keep making," Brett murmurs.

"Yeah?" Liam pants as Brett gives another hard thrust. "What's it like anyway?"

"You mean being inside you?" Brett curls over him, starting to pick up speed, and Liam tries, he really fucking tries, not to fucking whimper again. "Snug," Brett says. "You're tight. It's been a while, huh? How're you doing down there?"

Liam squeezes, watches as Brett closes his eyes and halts his movements. "Pretty great," Liam breathes. "Feels just as good as it did the first time." 

It really does; in fact, it's almost better, because he knows there's no one to hear them and they've got more room and there's less urgency in it, so Brett's going slowly enough that Liam has time to process it properly, and he's also not nervous this time around. He clenches involuntarily and licks his lips when Brett gasps.

"I want you to touch yourself," Brett murmurs.

"If I do I might-"

"I don't care." He kisses Liam long and deep, leaving him dizzy. "I just want you to feel good," Brett says softly.

So Liam reaches down and begins to stroke himself hesitantly, biting his lip. Brett's tone is confusing the hell out of him; he's driving into Liam steadily and he's picking up speed, but he sounds gentle and serious and Liam's not sure what message he's trying to get across, if any.

Not that he's in the right frame of mind to try and figure it out right now, what with Brett's cock pushing against his prostate and his own dick throbbing mercilessly in his grip. He's close, can feel the telltale heat curling in his belly and ripples of sensation down his spine.

"Brett," he moans.

"Yeah, I'm right here," Brett pants back.

"I'm gonna come really soon," Liam whispers. 

"Yeah? That's okay. Do what feels good, baby."

_Baby_. Liam shivers, leans up to kiss Brett as he speeds up, feels his orgasm approaching rapidly. Something must tip Brett off, because then Brett's leaning down and Liam sees a bright white flash - - Brett's fangs - and sinks his teeth into the junction between Liam's neck and shoulder.

"Brett!" Liam yelps, and then he's coming hard and fast all over himself, hears Brett groaning, feels his thrusts picking up in speed but stuttering, and then Brett releases his neck and says, "Fuck, Liam, I'm gonna-"

He twitches, and Liam feels him come, deep inside, holding Liam's hips with his head down and his pelvis stuttering. Liam's pretty sure he makes a noise of pleasure, because yeah, okay, Brett coming in him feels pretty good.

"Liam," Brett whispers, then slumps down against him. Liam lies there, content, half-asleep, letting Brett's hands pet and stroke his sides and his legs, until Brett begins to move.

Liam winces a little when Brett pulls out of him. "That part feels weird," he says, staying where he is.

"Yeah? Worth it, though, right?"

"Definitely." Liam watches Brett go to the bathroom and come back with a washcloth. He wants to be on his side, or his stomach, so he doesn't protest when Brett starts wiping come off him.

"Gonna clean you up," Brett says.

"Okay," Liam yawns.

He lies there and lets Brett clean him up, barely registers where Brett's hands are until he feels a finger sink into him; he jumps about halfway through the roof, saying, "What're you-"

"I'm just checking," Brett says hurriedly.

"For what?" Liam grumbles, even as he settles back down.

"Just to make sure you're alright," Brett says. "I was pretty rough."

"I'd heal anyway," Liam says sleepily.

"Yeah. Just... after the supermoon... I dunno. Let me check, okay?"

Liam's initial reaction is to say, "I'm not stopping you," but he makes sure to add a, "thanks," on the end, because it sounds pretty harsh and Brett's been kind of spooked since the supermoon.

"You know," Liam says, squirming when Brett's finger brushes around inside him, "Scott and Malia are gonna be able to smell that we just had sex."

"Good," Brett says. "They won't say anything. It's Stiles that'll stick his nose in it if he finds out." He seems to notice Liam's squirming. "What's up?" he asks concernedly. "Am I hurting you?"

"Not exactly," Liam groans. He came what, five minutes ago, and he's pretty fucking sensitive. "I just - be careful." 

Brett nods. "Kind of sensitive?"

"Yeah. Very." 

Brett withdraws his finger slowly. "Okay," he says. "You seem fine."

Liam tilts his head back to watch Brett over his shoulder, smiling. "I feel pretty great," he says. 

Brett laughs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Liam rolls onto his back and lets Brett stroke his chest. "Now we have to go to the pack meet smelling like sex," he mumbles sleepily.

"Yeah. Doesn't matter though. It'll be fine." Brett leans down to kiss him. "Besides," he says, "it's my first official pack meeting, and I want to make an entrance."

~*~

It's already tense when they get there.

Liam's been basking in the afterglow of his and Brett's session together, but the moment he steps into Scott's house, he can sense - and smell - the tension, could probably cut it with a knife if he wanted to.

It's not like it's a big pack meet. Lydia's in Eichen House, Kira's still gone. So really, it's just Scott, Stiles, Malia, and Mason who are waiting for them. 

"Nice to know you're flouting basic concepts like timeliness," is the first thing Stiles snarks at them when they walk in. Liam feels a flare of anger, but Brett's hand on his back stops him from reacting. 

It doesn't get better. Stiles throws shade at everyone in the room, Malia is busy bickering with him, and Scott doesn't seem to be able to get anyone to pay attention. 

Liam tries to intervene a few times, but it doesn't work, and so he ends up just glowering at everyone in frustration until they all go to bed with Scott's bombshell over their heads - that the bodies of some of the chimeras, including Hayden, are missing.

Liam doesn't know what to make of that. He curls up with Brett and tries to switch his brain off, but he can't. He still feels like he let Hayden down, that he could've done something more to save her, even though Mrs. McCall keeps telling him that that last shot of mercury doomed her. 

He tries to shake the thought out of his head and rolls over onto his back slowly, turning to look at Brett.

Brett's asleep, soft curls of blonde hair falling across his face, eyes closed. He's definitely asleep - Liam can tell by his heartbeat and scent - his long, muscled thigh thrown over Liam's midsection, an arm beneath his head.

Liam's heart lurches horribly. What if Brett dies? What if Theo wins? What if the Doctors come back to dissect all of them? What if Stiles and Scott never repair their relationship? What happens if Lydia doesn't wake up? If something happens to Mason, who's human, who can't protect himself-

He can't stay down here. He manages to wriggle out from Brett's grip and heads straight for the stairs, like he did a month ago now. At the bottom, he turns around to look at his pack.

Scott is on the couch. Malia and Stiles are facing away from each other, both on the edges of the mattress, like they don't want to be in each other's space. 

Kira isn't here. Lydia isn't here. Lydia's in Eichen House, and Kira's - Liam doesn't even know where Kira is. Mason's near Brett. Theo isn't here because he's a fucking traitor-

Liam turns and heads up the stairs. He doesn't want to look down at the sleeping members of his pack and only see what they used to be - family. And now nobody is talking and half of them aren't even here anymore, and it's all fucked up and wrong and broken. He doesn't know what to do, how to fix it. 

He slinks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, sits down on the cold tiles in front of the tub, and stares at the wall across from him despondently. 

He doesn't know what to do anymore. The first week and a bit after the supermoon were all laid out for him - he was sick and on death's door and having to go to the hospital for endless rounds of dialysis, and his parents were back, so during that time, he sort of knew what was gonna happen. But now? Mrs. McCall says he's perfectly healthy again and he doesn't know what to do with the empty space. 

Scott's been trying to get him to open up, but Liam doesn't want to talk and he's finally realised that nobody can make him say anything - even his alpha. And to be honest, he doesn't feel like opening up to Scott, who trusted Theo, who allowed all this to happen, or to Stiles, who was so busy lying to everyone about everything that he compounded the problem, or Malia, who's got her own shit going on. 

He's been at Brett's place more often. Satomi's presence is soothing, and it's nice to know that any of his pack members can't just waltz up to the door and knock and get let in. He's fairly sure Satomi has been making a concentrated effort to keep him away from it all. 

Liam knows he's part of the problem. That maybe if he'd been less distracted with Brett he could've helped somehow, and that even now, clamming up and refusing to say anything isn't helping anyone. But he just can't get over the fact that his pack let him - and each other - down. He doesn't know how to move past betrayal and hurt. He still hasn't forgiven his dad for what he did. He's not sure he ever will. 

The door opens. He looks up to find Brett standing there, his hair ruffled and eyes half-closed with sleep. "There you are," Brett murmurs, coming in and settling down next to him. "I woke up and you were gone."

"Sorry," Liam says. 

Brett slumps down and puts his head on Liam's shoulder. "Why're you up here, Li?" he asks sleepily.

Liam shrugs, gently, mindful of Brett's head. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbles. "And... yeah."

"You can talk about it if you want to," Brett murmurs. "But no pressure, okay?"

Liam nods. Then, "When I was a kid, I used to try and stop my parents from fighting. I thought if I just, you know, behaved better, it would all be fixed. I thought them fighting was my fault, because it was mostly my dad screaming at my mom about how useless I was and my mom yelling back that that wasn't true."

Brett looks at him.

"It feels the same way now," Liam says bitterly. "All Scott and Stiles do is argue and try to make me take sides. Like it matters what I think. And I'm still trying to stop them from fighting. Nothing's changed."

"It can only get better from here, Li," Brett says. "They can't stay mad like this for long."

"That's what the school counsellor told me about my parents," Liam says. "Five years later they're divorced, my mom still has panic attacks thinking about what he did to us and he's in prison for nearly killing me." 

Brett sits up. Liam doesn't think he's ever seen Brett look so sympathetic and concerned in the entire time he's known him. "Don't look at me like that," Liam mumbles. "Seriously. He belted us, so what. He also put a roof over our heads and food on the table."

"Liam, he abused you," Brett says. "Both of you. You don't need to play it off like it wasn't that bad. I know it was. You've told me." 

Liam covers his face. "Stop," he croaks.

"Yeah. Okay." Brett leans in close to him, wraps his arms around Liam's body, and pulls him in closer. "I'm sorry." 

"I don't think it's ever gonna feel better," Liam admits.

"Maybe not. But maybe you'll be able to cope more. Once you're older." 

Liam nods, squirms until he's as ensconced in Brett's arms as possible, and says, "I'm sort of glad I've got you."

"Just sort of?"

"Just sort of. Your jokes are bad."

"Fuck you, Dunbar."

~*~

Brett drives Liam to school the next day just to spare him from an awkward car trip with Stiles and Malia. 

When Brett parks the car, he turns to Liam. "Be safe," he murmurs. 

"I'll be alright," Liam says. "The chimeras aren't going to do anything in a crowded school in broad daylight, right?"

"No," Brett agrees. "I was more talking about those guys that were bugging you. Don't let them get to you, okay?"

Liam nods, and Brett pulls him in, gives him a soft, gentle kiss. Liam's ready to get out of the car, but Brett seems reluctant to let him go; he's leaning his forehead against Liam's and his eyes are shut. Liam takes a moment to try and work out if anything's wrong, but it doesn't seem to be.

"Brett," he says softly. "I'm gonna be late for class."

Brett sighs, pulls away from him. "Yeah. Me too." 

He waits for a second, because he feels like Brett might wanna tell him something, but Brett doesn't say anything particularly important. Just, "See you after school," accompanied by a small smile.

"Okay," Liam says. "Bye." He gives Brett a swift kiss and steps out of the car.

At least he doesn't have anything to worry about at school.

~*~

He's a little confused when Brett doesn't show up that night to pick him up.

Brett texted him earlier to say he'd be there when Liam got out, but his car isn't in the carpark, and Liam doesn't wanna hang around in case Harris and his group of tools show up again, so he starts walking in the direction Brett would drive from. 

He waits a bit for a text, but nothing happens. It's fine, though, because just as he's nearing Mason's stop, the bus pulls up and Mason gets out.

"Liam," he says.

Liam waves. "Hi." 

"Wasn't Brett meant to pick you up?"

"Yeah. I guess he's late or something. Figured I'd just start walking, save him the trip." He falls into step beside Mason, chewing his lip. He's starting to feel kind of worried, feels like something might actually be wrong. He takes his phone out and types out a text.

**To** : Brett Talbot, 2:27PM  
Are you okay? :/

He figures he's kind of earned the right to at least wanna know that Brett's okay. He tucks his phone back into his pocket but he's almost jumping out of his skin waiting for it to buzz.

He tries to relax a bit, taking in the sunlight and the cool breeze and the lack of chaos around him. He even feels healthy. Mason's walking alongside him and they're talking about lacrosse, and Mason is trying to get Liam to spill the details on his sex life - "I don't need werewolf senses to know you're getting laid, Liam" - and life actually feels okay for once.

"Okay!" Liam groans. "Okay, yes. I'm getting laid. And that's as much as you're getting out of me!"

Mason looks completely unabashedly gleeful about it, and Liam knows he's not gonna let it drop. "Really?" he asks. "How recently?"

"Like yesterday," Liam mumbles, knowing he's turning red. 

"Dude," Mason says. "That's awesome. Who's on top?" 

"I'm definitely not telling you that," Liam says dryly.

Mason just laughs at him. And maybe that's why Liam's not really sure why he feels so strange, and so sick to his stomach in the next second, like something is really, terribly wrong. He reaches for his phone because Brett hasn't messaged back yet-

Then he hears it. A howl, splitting the air, and Liam breaks out into a cold sweat because he knows it's Brett - he doesn't know how he knows, just that he does - and Brett's in pain, somewhere, he's hurt-

"Liam?" Mason asks.

"Brett's hurt," he says, and he's taking off, leaving his bag with Mason, cutting straight across people's front lawns and eventually launching himself into the preserve, not knowing if Brett's at Devonford prep or his place or-

He gets lucky, because Brett howls again, and this one is worse, more afraid than the last one, but Liam knows where it's coming from now and races there.

_Not Brett. Not Brett-_

He wants to howl back but he doesn't because if Brett's being attacked then the person attacking him can't know Liam's on the way. And Brett howled twice, which surely means he's trying to call someone to him-

He's running so fast, using wolf speed and power, that he arrives at Devonford within a few minutes, finds Brett pinned to the side of the school by-

Liam blinks. That's one of the chimeras, he knows that, but he thought they were dead - they were dead, Parrish took the bodies and everything-

He doesn't labour on it, though, because it really doesn't matter who's attacking Brett - Liam can smell the fear and pain in the air, and Brett's bleeding, and Liam roars to get the attention of the chimera just as he lunges at him, his teeth bared. He doesn't care if the guy is a victim of Theo's; he's hurting Brett and Liam's gonna fucking _kill_ him. 

He manages to tackle the guy - Josh - to the ground, sees a mouth full of long, snapping teeth, longer than his or any other creature he's known off, and just manages to avoid getting his throat ripped out by slamming his fist into Josh's nose. He feels the bone give way beneath his hand - and yeah, I.E.D might be shit, but it's fuelling him now, giving him strength.

Josh gets his knees underneath Liam's chest and launches him off, leaving Liam winded on his back and struggling as Josh's full weight comes down on top of him. He doesn't recognise what kind of creature Josh is, not that it really matters. 

Josh raises an arm, clearly about to swipe, but Liam gets there first, ripping a row of jagged, deep wounds in Josh's torso. He squirms out from underneath him as Josh howls, hauls him up, and slams him into one of the parked cars, hoping darkly that the resulting concussion is at least bad enough to make him think twice about messing with Brett again. 

He throws Josh away from them, turns to face him, and roars. He can feel his face shift and knows he's gone full-wolf, here, but he doesn't care; if this is what it takes-

A howl goes up somewhere. It's not one Liam recognises, but Josh must, because he starts limping away and Liam's too worried about Brett to try and stop him.

He turns, finds Brett slumped down against the wall right where he was dropped. He's stripping his hoodie off as he gets there, because Brett's bleeding everywhere, from what Liam can see, and he's also writhing in pain.

"Brett?" Liam asks, hating the way his voice cracks as he kneels down on the ground. "Brett?" 

"You owned him," Brett chokes.

Liam wads up his hoodie and presses it against Brett's side, trying to stem the flow of blood. His phone is going crazy in his pocket, but he ignores it. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Seriously?" Brett groans. 

"Is anywhere else bleeding?" He's trying to remember how Brett looked after him when he'd been injured by the Dread Doctors, but the memories are so foggy and distant that they're not doing him any good. And now that the danger's over, he's starting to lose it a bit; he's freaking the fuck out.

"No," Brett whimpers. "No, just there."

Liam lifts his hoodie, swallows because yeah, Brett's bleeding, but the wound is also secreting a whitish fluid that looks like it might be actually fizzing, and that can't be good. 

He hears a car engine, turns around and sees Stiles' Jeep careening through the car park. There's so many thoughts clashing in his head he's not even really sure what's happening, and the tiny, sensible part of him tells him calmly that he's having an episode, and that this is the aftermath - the scattered thoughts and inability to make a decision. And fuck, he doesn't need this now.

"Hold still," he says as he presses down on the wound more. And Brett looks pretty scared, which Liam isn't used to seeing at all. 

"Liam!" Malia calls. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Brett's hurt-"

Stiles stares at the wound. "We need to get him out of here," he says. "Right now."

"No shit!" Liam says hysterically. 

Brett wriggles underneath his hands, and Liam can suddenly hear that Brett's panting harshly, his eyes clouded with agony, and he doesn't know what to do - so he leans down and kisses Brett hard, flinches when he feels pain shooting up and down his face, jaw, and neck, and realises he's taking Brett's pain. He's only ever done it once, for Stiles, and he didn't mean to then, either.

He stays where he is until he's absolutely sure Brett's pain is gone, then leans back. His hand is on Brett's face and it's bloody. "Hey," he says weakly, his ears ringing. "You okay?"

"You _literally_ kissed it better," Brett croaks, his eyes finding Liam's. "You giant dork." 

Liam's feeling way too hammered by emotions to say anything witty in response - he really isn't good with tense situations or life-and-death situations or injuries that don't involve him personally being eviscerated. He'd rather be the one getting injured than be the one helplessly watching as the venom from that blood-sucking thing courses into Brett's bloodstream. 

He can hear Stiles and Malia arguing about their situation in the background, and what with him being off his Risperdal, stressing out over Brett's wound and not knowing how they're gonna treat it when Deaton's not around, he's feeling twitchy, to say the least - enough to turn around and snap, "Can we just fucking go already?"

Stiles opens his mouth to retort but Malia's already at his side, kneeling down. "Where to?"

"Satomi," Brett says. His voice is hoarse, probably from all the screaming he just did. "She'll know what to do."

Malia helps Liam carry Brett to the car. He's consumed by guilt - Brett was able to carry him singlehandedly out of the Doctors' lair, he didn't need Theo's help at all - but Liam needs help with it. Even though he knows it doesn't really matter, as long as they get Brett help, he still can't help but labour on it as they get him into Stiles' jeep.

This time around, it's Brett leaning back against Liam's chest. Liam tries to remember the way Brett locked his legs around him in Theo's truck to stop him from bouncing around, but the wound is on Brett's hip, right where Liam's leg is, so he can only really do it so hard.

"Relax, Li," Brett murmurs. "I'm fine." 

Liam doesn't believe him, but he tries to relax a little, because Stiles and Malia are bickering in the front seat and he knows from experience that everyone around him being calm when he was hurt went a long way towards soothing him. He can smell the poison on Brett's side, cranes his neck to try and get a look at it. Not for the first time, he wishes he was taller. 

There are purple veins webbing out from the cut, visibly pulsing. Liam swallows; the wound is leaking some kind of pungent, off-white liquid that really doesn't look good. It isn't pus, but he has no idea what it might be.

"Am I gonna live, Dr. Dunbar?" Brett teases him weakly. 

Liam's knee-jerk reaction is to tell Brett to shut the fuck up and stop worrying about him - he knows Brett is teasing him because he's freaking out - but if this is how Brett's gonna deal with it then fine, he'll play along. "If I get my way," he says. "Which I always do."

"And why's that?" 

Liam focuses on where his hand is on Brett's forearm, begins trying to sap out some of the pain. "I'm the baby of the pack, remember?" he asks, voice tight. "I always get what I want."

"Jesus, Liam." He thinks maybe Brett laughs. 

At that moment, though, Stiles says, "I didn't tell you because there aren't any secrets in this pack, if you hadn't noticed, and Scott found out and I was right, as usual, it was just as bad as I thought it would be-"

"You told Liam and he didn't blab!" Malia shoots back.

"Shut up!" Liam snaps. "Can you do this later? Just drive faster!" He's absolutely not in the mood for his pack mates arguing like spoilt two-year-olds, not with Brett relying on them to get to safety, and he's done being gentle and understanding about it.

He's surprised when Malia and Stiles fall silent, turns back to Brett and says shakily, "See? Told you." 

He keeps up a near-constant stream of chatter all the way to Brett's place - this may be the most he's ever talked in his life, and he can tell that Stiles and Malia are only staying quiet because they're shocked to hear so much of his voice - and drains away what pain he can. It takes longer to recover every time, though, and he hopes that someone else can take over, at least for a little while.

He's relieved to see the plantation of trees that obscures the back of Brett's place, sits up a little straighter. "We're here," he tells Brett, figuring he might appreciate being kept in the loop. He's been pretty quiet the last five minutes, and his hair is soaked through with sweat, his heart fast and fluttery.

"Really?" Brett asks groggily. "Good."

Liam's head whips up when the back door across from him opens, revealing Scott and Mason. Now that he thinks about it, how're they gonna get Brett's ridiculously tall body out of the car?

"Liam," Mason says.

He gathers that someone's been talking to him, but he's been trying to problem-solve their way out of the back seat with his very limited math skills. "Yeah," he says.

"It's fine. Satomi's waiting."

Liam scoots forward a bit. "How'd you know we were coming?" he asks.

"I heard you howl," Scott says. "We thought you'd bring him here. Look, Liam, we should take him to the clinic-"

"No," Liam says flatly. He doesn't miss the look of trepidation and then relief that crosses Brett's face, which further solidifies his choice. "Brett said Satomi will know what to do. So we stay here." 

"There's stuff at the animal clinic we could use," Scott pushes.

"Then go get it. We'll wait here." 

There's a long pause. Even Stiles is being pretty quiet, which Liam is grateful for - he can feel his I.E.D scratching insistently behind his eyes and he's about five seconds away from losing his temper and raging out on Scott. 

"Liam-"

"Deaton isn't even at the clinic!" Liam snaps. "What're we gonna do? Sit around and jerk off while we wait for him to decide we're worth the time and effort of coming back?" 

"Better than leaving his recovery to chance!" Scott argues.

"We aren't," Malia says quietly. "Satomi will know what to do." 

Scott leans into the car, towards Brett, and Liam's admittedly tenuous, strained grasp over his I.E.D snaps. He snarls, feels his fangs pricking at his lips and his gums shift as the rest of his teeth grow in, his vision red and blurred as his eyes flare. 

Scott, to his credit, doesn't snarl back; he leans away almost straight away. He seems to know that he's crossed a line - and his and Liam's relationship is already on rocky ground after the last month - and now he's backing off. Liam doesn't stop snarling, though, just to prove his point. 

"Okay," Stiles says shakily. "Okay, well, Liam doesn't like that idea so let's just get Gigantor inside, shall we?" 

They somehow get Liam out of the car, and Liam reluctantly lets Scott help him carry Brett inside. He knows the way to Brett's room and that's where they go, with the others going to seek out Satomi. She's here; Liam can smell her close by.

He ignores Scott to the best of his ability as he drags the covers up over Brett's body and pulls the desk chair over so he has somewhere to sit. Brett's not talking anymore, not even a little, and Liam's starting to freak out. 

When Satomi comes in, he shoots up to his feet, ready to plead his case to make sure he stays in the room, but as it turns out, he doesn't have to; she asks Scott, quietly, to leave, and goes to Liam, touching her forehead with his.

"Tell me what happened," she says softly.

So Liam tells her the whole story, even as he holds Brett down and Satomi cleans out the poison in the gash. He notices that it's starting to heal, but it's pretty slow - just like he was when the Doctors hurt him. 

"I got there as fast as I could," he finishes. "I'm pretty sure I screwed up Josh really bad. At least I hope I did."

"I know you did, Liam." Satomi's got some kind of paste stuff in a bowl, starts smearing it on. "He's going to be fine," she says gently. "He'll probably sleep for a while - the wound is deep and the poison was bad, but he's healing on his own. It might just take longer than usual."

Liam nods, relieved. 

"There's trouble between your pack members," Satomi murmurs, continuing whatever it is she's doing. "What's happened?"

"What hasn't?" Liam asks bitterly. 

She looks surprised. "Brett always gave me the impression you were very loyal to your pack," she says. "Was he wrong in doing so?"

"No," Liam mumbles. "I am loyal to them. I'd do anything for them. But they're all idiots. None of them talk about anything important and when they do they lie. That's how Theo got the best of us. Because we were all lying to each other." 

"And what did you lie about?"

Liam swallows. "I told them I was fine when I wasn't," he says. "I didn't let them help when they wanted to. I didn't trust them to know how to help. And I still don't." 

It's easier to tell Satomi than it is to tell anyone else, somehow. "I only trust Brett because he showed me I could," he admits. "My pack expects me to trust them but they haven't proven I can. They've done the opposite actually. They weren't there." 

"The first step towards healing the rifts in your pack is being aware of what caused them," Satomi advises. "And now that you are, maybe you can start." She stands up. "He's going to be fine, Liam. I can promise you that. You're welcome to stay with him." 

"I'm staying." Brett's never left him. 

"Alright." He's surprised when Satomi rests a hand on his back and rubs the spot between his shoulder blades. "There's tea in the kitchen if you want any," she says softly. "I'll tell your pack you're staying."

"Thank you," Liam says.

The moment the door closes, he feels the fight leave his body, leaving him shaking and scared. So he held it together this time around but he's not sure he can do it again; he rubs at his eyes, distressed. The panic's setting in now. 

He puts his head on the bed next to Brett's arm and takes his hand. He flinches a little when his veins go black, a sign that Brett's in pain, clearly. 

"Sorry, Brett," he mumbles. "I'm sorry."


	15. Fifteen - Breaking Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE'S THE NEXT ONE! This chapter is a lot of relationship-centric stuff! Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading and commenting and kudo'ing! <3

**Fifteen - Breaking Down**

The first thing Brett's aware of, when he wakes, is Liam's scent, smothering him like a heavy, comforting winter blanket. Which means two things: Liam's close, and he's been scent-marking Brett. 

There's a dull, muted pain in his side - enough to be a nuisance - but Liam's soft, soothing scent is keeping it at bay, like some kind of drug. Liam always smells kind of like fresh laundry detergent and apples and chamomile - that must be what's in his shower gel - and a little bit like youth. 

He wants to open his eyes. But he's fucking tired, and he feels weak, kind of hot and flushed on the inside, but shivering on the outside. Trying to work out what's wrong, he does eventually prise his eyes open.

When he does, the first thing he sees is Liam's chest. He's sitting pretty close to the bed, on a chair, wearing one of Brett's black t-shirts, but his own jeans. Brett lets his eyes drift upwards to Liam's face.

Liam's watching him, his expression uncertain and worried. "Hi," he says, voice barely more than a whisper.

Brett blinks. "Hey." 

He feels something brush at his side, looks down to find Liam's got his shirt hiked up and is wiping at the wound on it with a wet cloth. "Sorry," Liam says. "Does that hurt?"

"No. It's okay." Brett swallows, looking around. "What happened?"

"You passed out once we got here," Liam says quietly. "Satomi took a look at you."

"And you?"

Liam holds up the cloth with a little smile. "This." He puts it down after a moment; Brett watches the way the light in the room strikes Liam's eyes as he turns his head. "Want some water?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Brett goes to sit up, but he's dizzy, and the world spins.

Liam edges closer to the bed, slides a hand under Brett's neck, and helps him drink. Brett sees a ripple of black ink travel up the veins in Liam's arm, catches, briefly, the wince that contorts his face. He's taking Brett's pain away.

"I feel weird," Brett says.

Liam nods. "You have a fever."

"Is this what they feel like?" Brett asks vaguely.

Liam nods. "You've never had one before, have you?" he asks curiously. "Because you were born a werewolf."

Brett nods.

"They suck," Liam says. "But Satomi says it'll be fine. You should go back to sleep for a bit." 

"Why?" Brett yawns.

Liam shrugs. "Sleeping helps."

Brett supposes he's right - Liam did nothing but sleep when he was sick - and so he closes his eyes, lets himself drift off to the sensation of Liam's thumb stroking his neck.

~*~

He's a lot more alert when he next wakes up.

The mood in the room has changed; he opens his eyes and immediately smells how irritated Liam is. When he looks around, Liam's still messing with his side, cleaning it - which means it hasn't healed over properly yet, he's guessing. 

"Hey," Brett croaks.

"Hi," Liam says, seeming unsurprised that he's awake. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay." Brett tilts his head up to look at Liam's face; he's pissed. "Shoe's on the other foot for once," Brett jokes weakly.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather it was me," Liam replies flatly, and Brett makes a mental note - no jokes. Liam's clearly not in the mood for it. Something had to have happened while he was passed out, because Liam's wound tighter than a spring, his face set in a scowl.

"So," Brett says. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours," Liam says. "Five or six." 

"Five or six?" Brett demands.

Liam finally meets his eyes; Brett can see just by taking one look at Liam that he's pretty pissed off, but all things considered, he's doing a great job of keeping the lid on his anger. "Yeah," he says. "You didn't heal until the poison was gone. It's still going." 

Brett nods; he can feel it. "You've been here the whole time?"

"Course I have," Liam says brusquely. "As if I was gonna leave." 

Brett smiles a little. For as harsh as Liam's voice and face are, his movements, where he's methodically cleaning Brett's side, are gentle and well-practiced. He's been doing this for a while, Brett guesses. Probably while he was unconscious. He's also not in any pain, so he's willing to bet Liam's been making sure to drain it away at regular intervals too. 

"Where's your pack?" Brett asks.

Liam clenches his jaw, and a tick starts jumping at the side of it. "Dunno," he says shortly. "Pretty sure they went home."

"Even Mason?"

Liam rolls his shoulders and neck a little. "He stayed for a while," he says. "Longer than the others. But I told him to go do homework or something." 

Brett takes a long look at him; there are shadows underneath his eyes and now that Brett's looking closer, he can see that Liam's shaking. He feels guilty, then; if he's right and Liam's been draining his pain away so he can rest, he's probably completely fatigued from it. He's also willing to bet money that Liam hasn't left his side to get food or water.

"Li," he says softly.

Liam rubs his face with his free hand. "Yeah?"

"Go get something to eat and drink," Brett says. "You're exhausted." 

"I'm fine," Liam mumbles.

"Come on. Bring me something too if it makes you feel better. You've been sitting here for what, six hours? You look wrecked."

Liam stays stubbornly where he is. Brett's gotta give him credit - he's impossible to budge once he's loyal. Brett's never really been on the receiving end before, at least not in a situation like this, and he appreciates it. Immensely. But he also doesn't want Liam to drop dead from hunger or thirst.

"The kitchen is just down the hall," he says, aiming to be comforting and soothing. He feels like Liam's nerves might be a little frayed - he knows what that's like. "Nothing's gonna happen to me while you're gone." 

Liam rubs his face, seeming distressed. "Yeah. Okay." 

"Hey. It's fine." Brett reaches out to pat Liam's hip, wincing as his side pulls. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." 

Liam nods and stands up. "Want anything?"

"Whatever you're willing to carry back," Brett says.

He watches Liam leave the room. He's worried about that stupid dork. Liam really doesn't seem very well-adjusted at the moment, and Brett's determined to get to the bottom of it. 

He waits for a bit, until Liam comes back with a tray of stuff, looking nervous. Brett's about to ask why when he sees two mugs wobbling dangerously.

"You made tea," he says.

"I can make tea, I'm just probably gonna spill it." But Liam does manage to set it down without spilling any. "Ha." 

"Good job," Brett laughs. He tilts his head to watch as Liam takes a sip of his own and winces, evidently having burnt his tongue. "That'll be hot."

Liam nods. "I'd give you some but I'm trying not to kill you." 

Brett notices that Liam's hands are shaking. "Eat something," he orders quietly. "Seriously. Healing people takes a lot out of you even if you're used to it. What's this, the second time you've done it?"

Liam nods. 

"Eat, Li," Brett says. "Please." 

Liam finally gives it up and starts nibbling on the corner of a sandwich. He doesn't seem hungry. Brett nudges his leg.

"What's going on with you, huh?" he murmurs. "You wanna tell me?"

Liam shrugs, which Brett knows is a "no" disguised as a "maybe". But he also knows Liam will eventually tell him, mostly out of guilt, because he doesn't like keeping secrets.   
So, in the meantime, he says, "is that ham?"

"Turkey," Liam responds.

"Gimme some," Brett says, shuffling closer. Liam smiles a little as he starts feeding Brett strips of turkey meat.

"You know," Liam says, "this is the kind of thing you'd do for a dog, Brett."

Brett shrugs. "I'm a werewolf. Close enough, right?" 

Liam smiles again, but it slips off his face - he seems to be having trouble keeping it there. Brett watches as he puts the turkey down and says, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Brett asks, mystified.

"I didn't get to you in time," Liam says. Brett's startled when a few tears slip out of Liam's eyes, and he presses his hands against them. "Fuck, sorry," he says. 

"Liam, you saved my life," Brett says. "If you hadn't turned up when you did Josh would've killed me." 

"You got hurt," Liam says. "I just didn't get there fast enough. I'm sorry."

"Hey," Brett says, curling his hand around the back of Liam's neck and stroking the soft, fine hairs there. "Do you blame me for the Dread Doctors getting to you and Hayden?"

Liam frowns. "Of course not. You got us out." 

"Well, there you go. You still got hurt, but you're okay now. It's the same thing. You rescued me." And, because that last part sounds incredibly cheesy, "You're a regular white knight, Dunbar."

"Oh, shut up," Liam mutters, but he's sort of smiling. He wipes at his cheeks again. "Sorry," he says awkwardly. "I just - I'm tired, and my I.E.D... I probably need some Risperdal."

"You're having trouble?" Brett asks, reaching out to touch Liam's elbow.

Liam nods. "Yeah," he says quietly. "So, you know. Mood swings. Fun stuff." He rubs his eyes. "After an episode," he admits quietly, "it's just like... my head is just white noise. I can't think and I panic and I get all tired and it's like everything goes fuzzy - I just don't understand things. The episodes are one thing, but I feel like I'm going insane after them." 

"Is that why you were so growly in the car?" Brett asks.

Liam gives him a tiny, self-deprecating smile. "No. I was just pissed off."

Brett nods. "So... what happens when you don't take it if you need it?" he queries. "Is that gonna screw you up?"

"Yeah, probably," Liam sighs. "As for what happens - boom. You've seen it. You're seeing it right now."

He has. It's the only time he's ever genuinely been afraid of Liam himself, and not for him. He's never seen anger come on that fast or strong in anyone - and hasn't ever seen anyone feel remorseful and guilty in the aftermath that quickly, either. And it sucks to see Liam struggling to hold onto some semblance of control and coherency, clearly for Brett's benefit.

"You should go take some," Brett says.

"I don't want to," Liam replies. "Besides, I'm getting good at this bedside vigil thing. I'm not sure how you do it so often, though. It's pretty boring."

Brett laughs. It is pretty boring.

Liam rubs his face again. "I yelled at Scott," he says. "And Stiles. Uh... a lot, while you were out."

"What about?"

"Being shitty friends," Liam admits. "I pretty much had an episode. Right there, with everyone watching me. I basically told Scott that he doesn't deserve to be a True Alpha after all this, and I told Stiles that if he hadn't been such a dickhead and kept secrets from everyone it would've been fine."

"Wow. Ripped them a new one, huh?" Brett asks.

"I feel really guilty about it now," Liam says quietly. "But I'm not taking it back because I meant every word of it. I just probably should've kept it to myself." 

"Hey," Brett says softly. "If you hadn't stuck up for me in the car, Scott would've taken me to the clinic and I would've suffered a lot more. I might not have gotten back here, to Satomi, if you'd let Scott do what he wanted to do. So thank you." 

Liam shrugs self-consciously; his shoulders are kind of raised, drawn in close to his body, like he's trying to hide. "No big deal," he says quietly.

It is, though; Liam outright defied his alpha and entire pack to ensure Brett got the care he needed, and Brett's not gonna forget that any time soon. "How's your pack doing?" he asks. "Is anyone hurt?"

"No. They're all okay." 

"Are you okay?" Brett asks. "Did Josh hurt you?"

Liam shrugs despondently. "He threw me around a little bit," he says. "But I'm okay now." He stifles a huge yawn. "I'm just tired," he admits. "Don't mind me."

"Why don't you come here, then?" Brett asks.

Liam surprises him by crawling up onto the side of the bed he's already sitting on, picking up the cloth he was using to sponge at Brett's side before, and continuing what he was doing while lying down. Brett thinks he must have the most loyal, selfless boyfriend around, and that a year ago, he would've pegged Liam as a cocky, arrogant little freshman. Liam's pretty good at hiding, at pretending. Until you get to know him.

"You don't have to keep doing that," Brett says gently. "I'm sure it's clean now."

"Does it feel good?" Liam asks.

"Yeah. It's nice."

"Then I'm gonna keep doing it," Liam says stubbornly. 

"Okay," Brett says, because he knows a pointless battle when he sees one. "But I want you to rest at some point, okay? You're still kind of shaky." 

He's lucky as hell Liam knows how to fight. Even if Brett's pack had turned up first, they aren't warriors. Liam's pack has never known any different. If it weren't for Liam and the near unnatural strength he possesses as a beta, Brett would be dead and he knows that. 

He watches as Liam barely stifles a yawn. "Li," he says softly, reaching over to pull at the front of Liam's shirt. "Come on. You need to sleep."

Liam puts his head on the pillow, but he doesn't look like he's quite ready to give in. "What if you're in pain while I'm sleeping?" he murmurs plaintively.

"I'll wake you up. Promise." Brett smiles. "You can kiss it better again."

Liam closes his eyes, sighing. "You're never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

"Never," Brett replies smugly. "You're a giant cheeseball and the world needs to know."

"I'll kill you," Liam says sleepily. Brett watches his eyelids flutter closed, slowly, the movements of his arm becoming sporadic as he tries fruitlessly to fight off sleep. 

Brett yawns. Maybe he'll rest a bit, too. Only for a few minutes. Then he'll get up and tell Satomi he's feeling better, take Liam home...

~*~

Brett wakes to his bedroom door opening and opens his eyes, jumping a bit before he registers Satomi's scent.

"Satomi," he says.

She smiles, bends down, and touches their foreheads together. "How are you, Brett?"

"Much better," Brett says. "Uh, my arm's kind of numb."

Satomi looks down and smiles; Liam's passed out cold on Brett's arm, his head tucked away so his face is hidden. "This little one isn't used to healing, is he?" she asks, amused.

"He'd only done it once before today," Brett confirms. Liam's not even stirring. "Should we be worried?"

"No. Healing takes a lot out of bitten wolves; it doesn't come naturally to us the way it does to you. He's probably just tired. If he's still sleeping, it means he feels safe here." She sits down in the chair that Liam had occupied before. "While he's asleep, we need to discuss something."

Brett blinks; she sounds serious. "Did something happen while I was out?"

"You could say that," she says. "When you were unconscious, Liam snarled at Scott."

"Yeah, he said he was a bit ticked off." 

Satomi shakes his head. "No, Brett - he growled at Scott when Scott was trying to get in here to see you and almost attacked him. I thought initially it may have been his anger disorder reacting to stress, but that wasn't it."

"So what was it? He thought it was the I.E.D-"

"He probably doesn't know any differently, yet," she says. "But Liam growling at Scott - his alpha - to protect you from what he perceived as danger is a sign that your wolves are bonding with each other. Closely."

Brett tries to wrap his head around that; he's not quite sure he understands what it means, though he feels like there are some pretty serious implications behind Satomi's words.   
"What does that mean?" he asks. "I mean we've already established that I lo-"

At Satomi's surprised expression, he cuts himself off. "That I'm kind of fond of him," he finishes in an embarrassed mutter. "How is this different?"

"Because your wolves, Brett - the wild, animal sides of the both of you - in theory, shouldn't get along. You're from different packs and hold different positions in said packs. Your wolf recognises that Liam was bitten, not born - which is likely why you were drawn to help him after he was initially turned. Usually, the differences are irreconcilable." 

"There's a but in there somewhere," Brett says.

"But," Satomi says, "Liam's wolf was protecting you today. It didn't want Scott anywhere near you. I wanted to warn you, before you became so attached, that this is uncommon and could lead to our enemies manipulating you. Because they'll know." 

Brett swallows, looks down at Liam, who looks nowhere near being threatening or raging while he's curled up like this. But before? When he was fighting Josh? That's gotta be one of the most jarring things Brett's ever seen. He's never seen someone really wind up and let go like that, slam someone around with the intention to inflict pain.

"You need to be careful," Satomi says. "Just in case."

Brett nods. "I will." 

She stands, but hesitates. "Brett," she says. "You should know that this was a warning."

"What was?" Brett asks. 

"Josh attacking you," she says quietly. "This was a warning to you, and to me, to stay away from Scott McCall's pack. Whatever is going on between them, it's personal."

"I'll keep that in mind," Brett says. "Thanks, Satomi."

She nods and leaves, and Brett looks down. Liam's still fast asleep, but he's begun to nose sleepily at Brett's chest - scenting him, probably, Brett realises. And now it makes sense - Liam scent-marking him, wanting to be closer, actively and almost aggressively seeking contact - there's more going on here than Liam getting comfortable with him.

He's too tired to think about it now, though. Instead, he rolls to hold Liam properly and goes back to sleep.

~*~

When he wakes up, Liam's somehow managed to wriggle out of Brett's grip and is lying on his side, facing the window.

He's taken his shirt off, and Brett realises it's pretty stuffy in his room. He rolls as well - ignores the slight twinge of pain in his side - and watches the planes of Liam's back move as he breathes.

He reaches out and lets his hand run down the smooth, slight dip in Liam's waist, massages the muscles there. Liam, for his part, stretches like a huge blonde cat and pushes up into the touch.

"Hi," he mumbles.

Brett smiles, rolls onto his back. "Hey."

Liam wriggles over onto his other side, slowly, like he's sleepy, and looks at Brett. His skin is pale gold in the light cast from Brett's lamp; he watches Brett with softly lidded eyes for a moment before moving closer and wrapping his arm underneath Brett's head, leaning on his elbow and looking down at him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks quietly.

Brett's heart lurches. Liam's looking down at him with such undisguised concern and fondness that it's making his heart and stomach do all sorts of really fucked up stuff, and he can't come up with an answer when he feels pinned by Liam's eyes. 

I love you. He tests the words in his mind, but he can't imagine any way to say them that won't make Liam recoil from him. He can imagine a thousand ways to say it, but none of those scenarios involve a positive reaction from Liam.

"Brett?" Liam asks.

"It's your birthday soon," he says. "Right?"

"Yeah," Liam says. "A few days."

"Are you doing anything for it?"

Liam shrugs. "Probably just dinner with Mom and Dad," he says. "I don't like parties much. And I don't think my pack..."

Brett nods. He'd honestly be surprised if anyone in Liam's pack even remembers his birthday. He smiles. "Sweet sixteen, huh?"

"Yeah. I'll be legal," Liam says with a smile. 

"Well, looks like we'll finally be able to have sex," Brett says, and Liam laughs. Then he sits up, properly, lets Brett go.

"You wanna have a shower?"

"Yeah," Brett says.

He goes to get up - Liam gets off the bed and pulls Brett's shirt back on over his head - but there are black spots in his vision almost as soon as he stands up. He feels Liam's arm around his waist, wraps his own around Liam's neck and shoulders.

"Dizzy?" Liam questions timidly.

"A little," Brett admits.

"Satomi said that some of the poison might still be affecting you," Liam says. "Even though you've healed." 

"Never get off easy, do we?" Brett sighs.

Liam shakes his head. He's bearing the brunt of Brett's weight, but it doesn't really seem to bother him as he helps Brett to the bathroom and leans into the shower to turn it on.  
"That okay?" he asks as Brett sticks his hand in.

"Yeah. Perfect." Brett undresses, slowly and carefully, and gets in. Liam hovers outside. "Don't worry," Brett says gently, "I'm not going to slip and die."

"You might," Liam mumbles, but he sits down on the counter, swinging his legs a little. 

Brett looks down at his side. It's aching pretty harshly, but the wound has closed over, with only an angry red weal left behind for his body to heal. He's still feeling kind of hot and bothered, feverish, but that'll be gone soon enough. 

"Is it okay?" Liam asks.

"What?"

"Your side. Is it okay?" 

"It's kind of sore, but it'll be fine." 

Liam doesn't seem to listen, because the moment Brett's back in bed - clean and feeling sleepy again - his hand lands somewhere in the vicinity of Brett's hip and the remaining pain fades away. Brett looks up, meaning to chastise Liam - and sees him close his eyes, heave a shaky sigh, and draw his hand back.

"Yeah, it's pretty tiring," he says instead.

"It's like I don't recover in time to do it again," Liam admits.

"Yeah, it's like that for all of us. Gets better with practice." 

Liam shifts and gets up on the bed with him. "I don't want practice if it means you getting hurt," he admits. "I don't know how you did it all last month. I lost it. I knew I would but still."

"You did great," Brett says, because he really did - Liam defended him from Josh, who's tweaked out on whatever the Doctors have done to him, and then from his own pack - from Stiles and Malia who would've continued to argue had Liam not interfered, from Scott, who was more concerned with being the leader than getting Brett help elsewhere. "Seriously," Brett adds. "If it weren't for you... well, Scott would've dragged me off to Deaton's."

Liam shrugs, and Brett realises belatedly that Liam probably doesn't enjoy listening to Brett shit-talk Scott like this.

"Sorry," he says. "I shouldn't say stuff like that. I'd be pissed if you talked that way about Satomi."

"You're right though," Liam sighs, nestling in close to Brett. His hand starts playing with Brett's hair gently; Brett closes his eyes. He doesn't say anything, because he feels like Liam might slowly be getting around to saying something else.

Sure enough, Liam clears his throat and says softly, "Scott's my alpha," as he continues to sift his fingers through Brett's hair. 

Brett continues to stay quiet. Liam clears his throat and grazes Brett's eyes with his own.

"Scott's my alpha," he repeats. "I want to trust him. But I can't. Not with this... especially not with you." 

Especially not with you. Brett doesn't bother assuring Liam, because he feels the same way. He doesn't trust Scott with Liam's wellbeing, and he knows that this is just the start of a very slippery slope of despair for all of them.

~*~

Brett drives Liam home a few hours later.

They've napped and eaten, even though Liam still looks sort of sleepy - they've managed to sleep mostly through the night, and as they pull up at Liam's, Brett says,

"Where exactly do your parents think you've been?" 

Liam looks instantly guilty. "I told them I was at Mason's," he says quietly. "Sleeping over there." He looks at Brett. "I need to tell them," he says guiltily. "I hate lying to them. It's getting really hard. They're gonna start questioning it eventually. And they deserve to know."

"Okay," Brett says. "I'll help however I can."

Liam nods slowly. His eyes drift up and down Brett's body. "Are you feeling better?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," Brett says truthfully. "Much better. You're a good nurse." 

Liam goes red, but he also smiles. "Whatever."

"You still look tired," Brett comments. Liam's got black bags under his eyes and Brett doesn't think his eyes have been fully open since Brett dropped him at school the day before. "You should get some sleep."

"I will." Liam opens the door, but he turns back before he gets out. "You should come round later," he says nervously. "Like, maybe around four or something. Mom's been begging me to meet you."

"They don't care you're with me?"

"They're more worried about me being gay and anguished," Liam says, and Brett frowns - because he's not quite sure what he's missed and Liam's done a typical Liam thing and jumped five steps ahead in the conversation, leaving Brett bewildered.

"Okay," he says slowly. "Yeah. Just text me or something, okay?"

"I will." Liam leans over and gives him a gentle little kiss, almost shy. "See you later."

"Bye," Brett says. He means to say more, but the words get stuck in his throat and Liam's already swinging himself out of Brett's car, grabbing his things, and walking up the sidewalk. 

Brett drives away before he can think about how much it really sucks to have to say goodbye.

~*~

He gets a text from Liam, about half an hour later, saying that it's okay for him to come around at about three. That gives Brett time to work out exactly what he's gonna say to Liam's parents, explanations for the questions they'll inevitably have about his life, and do some homework.

He stops off to get smoothies before he goes around, takes a minute to collect himself and his nerves before he jumps up the steps to Liam's house. He's been here a thousand times, but never like this.

The last time he was this nervous was when he brought Liam pizza, hoping the apologetic gesture would stop him from being angry. Brett still feels bad about it; he never meant to hurt Liam, or confuse him, or piss him off. 

He rings the doorbell and feels like he's living in some weird fifth-dimension - nothing has been normal since his parents died, and now, he's basically living in a movie - going to his boyfriend's house to meet his parents and have dinner. Hell, he even brought fake wine with him. 

The door opens, revealing Liam's mother. She's short, like Liam, blonde, like Liam, but has brown eyes, not blue. She smiles at him when she sees him, although it's sort of a confused, polite smile.

"Mrs. Geyer?" he asks. "Hi." He's grateful that Liam warned him beforehand, in his text, that his mother and stepfather share a last name. 

"Oh, hi, sweetie," she says vaguely. "I'm sorry, I don't really want to buy anything."

He has to laugh at that; this reminds him of Liam opening the door, all riled up and ready to let rip on the poor Jehovah's Witness scouts, only to realise it's him. "That's okay," he says. "I'm not selling anything. I'm Brett."

Her expression gives way to one of mortification. "Brett!" she exclaims. "I'm so sorry, honey. Come in. Come on, it's not exactly warm out." She stands back to let him in; he toes his shoes off. "Liam did tell me you were coming," she says apologetically. "I just forgot." She cranes her neck. "My God, you're tall," she says, amazed. "Liam didn't say you were this tall."

Brett laughs, feeling a little awkward. "Sounds like he didn't tell you much," he says.

"Well, you know what he's like," she says. "At least now I know what you look like!" She glances up the stairs. "I thought he'd be down by now," she says.

"Me too," Brett admits. He really did - Liam's got good hearing, what with being a werewolf, so it's pretty surprising he hasn't heard Brett come in. "Maybe he's playing a video game." 

"Oh, he's been quiet all day," she says. "He's been at Mason's and those two never sleep if there's gaming to be done. He looked like a zombie when he walked in."

"I mean," Brett says. "Isn't he always quiet?"

She laughs. "You know him well. Go upstairs if you'd like, honey. You're welcome to stay for dinner. It's roast lamb tonight."

Brett's mouth pretty much waters. "That would be great," he says. "Thank you." He's totally sincere in that; Liam's mother seems sweet and nurturing in the way his own was when she was alive. 

He heads upstairs - Liam's stepdad isn't home, apparently - and walks the well-worn path to Liam's room. The door is shut; Brett knocks lightly, but there's no answer.

He hesitates, but then he figures, you know, what's walking in on Liam when he's been screwing him for the last six or seven weeks - and opens the door.

He pushes it open quietly, freezes in the doorway when he sees that Liam's curled up on the side of his bed with his phone in his hand, eyes closed, a blanket dragged haphazardly up to his waist, clearly deeply asleep. And yeah, Brett knew Liam was tired. He just didn't think he was this tired.

He tiptoes in, leaves the door open, and puts his things down. Liam doesn't stir; he's breathing long and deep, clearly not about to wake up any time soon.

"So this is why you didn't hear me," Brett murmurs. "And why you haven't answered your phone all day." 

Liam's wearing a long-sleeved, oversized shirt and sweats, no socks, and his feet look cold, so Brett readjusts the blanket, gets on the bed with him, and reaches for one of Liam's books. The last time he did this, Liam had been drugged and was sleeping off the effects, and Brett couldn't wait to get out of there. 

He's sitting there for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes when Liam rolls a little, onto his back, and then to face Brett. He slings an arm over Brett's legs and tucks his face up against Brett's hip, never giving any indication that he's awake. Brett tries not to let his heart explode. 

He looks around Liam's room, taking in the familiar, comforting sights. The blue and white plaid comforter. The surfboard in the corner. The pillows at the end of the bed where they've sat countless times to play video games. The bookshelf.

There aren't many photos, and Brett's not in any of them anyway. He'd like to change that one day.

Liam snuffles against him, and Brett hears his heartbeat change as he slowly starts to wake up. He blinks sleepily, confusedly, at having found himself a new pillow. 

Finally, he seems to register Brett's there; he looks up. "Hi," he says sleepily. "When did you get here?"

"About half an hour ago," Brett says. "Your mom let me in."

Liam snuggles up closer to him, makes a weak attempt at throwing some of his blanket over Brett as well. "Should've woken me up," he mumbles.

"You were sleeping like the dead," Brett points out. "Nothing was waking you up anytime soon. Your mom invited me to stay for dinner."

"It's lamb," Liam yawns.

"Yeah, she told me. I'm definitely staying." Brett laughs as Liam makes a valiant attempt to start climbing further up his body. "You okay there?"

"Lie down with me," Liam whines.

Brett puts the book away and lies down, surprised when Liam shuffles up until Brett's face is in his chest and loops his arms loosely around Brett's body. 

"You good?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam replies drowsily. "This is good." 

Brett decides to let Liam sleep. He was up all night taking care of Brett, after all, so it doesn't seem fair to deny it to him now - even if Brett knows he should keep Liam awake so he'll actually sleep tonight, he can't bring himself to do it when Liam's scenting him, sleepily, and wrapped so thoroughly around Brett's body. 

Eventually, though, he does need to move, because he's just remembered their smoothies. "Hey," he murmurs to Liam. "Li. Come on, wake up."

"Mm, yeah?"

"I brought you a smoothie. I just remembered."

Liam cracks his eyes open. "You're the best," he says. "Seriously."

"Yeah, yeah. You're buttering me up so I'll keep buying them." 

"That's true," Liam says, and Brett laughs at the unrepentant honesty in his voice. 

There's a knock on the doorframe, and they look around to see Liam's mom standing there, looking sheepish and awkward, but determined. 

"Do you boys want anything?" she asks cheerfully. "There's crackers and dip downstairs. And I bought that really nice orange juice at the market yesterday, too, Liam. You mentioned Brett likes it."

"We're okay," Liam says, holding up his smoothie. "Brett brought smoothies." 

Mrs. Geyer flounders momentarily. That's when Brett realises that she's freaking out over them being in Liam's room, on Liam's bed, snuggled up together like a couple of puppies, and he tries not to smile. 

_Liam's her baby_ , he thinks, holding back a snigger. _He's totally a mama's boy_. And really, Brett absolutely is not going to be the one to break to her that Liam is pretty freshly deflowered. And that he practically begged Brett to do it.

Still, he feels bad for her - she's obviously worried they'll do something up here, and Brett knows she's just looking out for Liam, who's had a rough enough time growing up as it is. She's just trying to protect him.

Realising that, Brett sits up. "I'm pretty hungry," he offers, and he tries not to laugh when her expression melts with relief. 

Liam looks at him confusedly, but ultimately gets up and follows them both downstairs. Brett settles into one of the barstools and starts in on the crackers and dip - of which there are about fifty million kinds. Liam doesn't touch them.

"Your dad'll be home soon," Mrs. Geyer says cheerfully. "In the meantime, Brett, sweetie - tell me something about yourself. Liam just said you were smart and played lacrosse."

"You said I was smart?" Brett asks Liam, who blushes faintly and turns to the fridge. "Sorry he lied, Mrs. Geyer. I'm not really. Um..." Nobody asks Brett to talk about himself; he's searching for the words. Finally, he comes up with, "I have a younger sister. Lori. She's twelve." 

"Lovely," Mrs. Geyer says cheerfully. "And your parents? What do they - Liam, sweetie, what on earth are you doing?"

The moment she mentioned his parents, there'd been a sharp bang as Liam jerked his head out of the pantry so fast he hit it on a shelf; he winces, rubbing the back of it. He opens his mouth to answer.

"Uh," Brett says awkwardly - because as adorable as Liam stumbling over his words and stammering is, he can't listen to him try to explain that Brett's parents are dead. "My parents died a few years ago now."

Mrs. Geyer covers her mouth for a moment. "Oh, honey," she says. "I'm so sorry."

Brett's eyes sting. Because it's been a long time, yeah, and he doesn't usually get that choked up when people find out anymore - but that's the most sincere apology he's had about it since it happened, and it hurts worse when people genuinely seem to care, somehow.

"It's alright," Brett says, for lack of anything else to say. He's never quite worked out how to accept the apologies gracefully; he doesn't think he ever will. "But um - my mom was a real estate broker and my dad was an electrician."

"Opposite ends of the spectrum, then," she says, smiling gently. "I'm sure they were lovely people." 

Brett blinks a little. Liam slips into the chair beside him, and his fingers tangle with Brett's, a warm lifeline that fills him with this pervasive feeling of calmness. "They were," he says. "I was telling Liam the other day - my mom used to make me go in all these school plays. Said I should try everything at least once before deciding what I wanted to do."

"And were you good?"

"No," he says, and she laughs. "No, I really wasn't. I was meant to play a tree. I dropped my branches and ran into the lead." 

"Well, at least you didn't do what Liam did," she says tartly. "He was so upset about not being the lead that he stole the poor girl's crown and ran away with it."

"Mom," Liam groans, just as Brett starts laughing.

"Liam stole a crown?" he snickers. "Does he still have it?"

"No, we had to give it back," Mrs. Geyer sighs. She brightens, then, and says, "But I'm sure I have pictures!" 

"Mom," Liam pleads. 

"It was his prized possession," she says. "For all of ten minutes." 

Brett's outright belly-laughing now, and Liam buries his face in one hand - his other, covered mostly by the overlong sleeve of his shirt, clutches Brett's hand tighter, threads his fingers through the gaps in Brett's. 

"You sound like an adorable kid," Brett teases.

Liam mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, "Fuck you, Talbot," but low enough that his mom can't hear. 

The sound of a car engine approaches the house, then enters the garage. Brett's heart shoots up into his throat. Meeting Liam's mom - who seems pretty sweet and likable - is one thing. Meeting his stepdad is a whole other thing entirely. 

"That'll be Dean," Mrs. Geyer says cheerfully. "Finishing on time for once. You wanna help him with the groceries, Liam?"

"Anything to get out of you deliberately embarrassing me," Liam huffs, leaving the room. Brett looks back at Mrs. Geyer and smiles.

She smiles back. "I'm sorry about your parents, Brett," she says.

"It really is okay," Brett says. "It was a long time ago. I guess you sort of learn to live with it."

She nods sagely. "True. And, for what it's worth - Liam seems happier than he did when we left. I think you're good for him."

Brett's not so sure about some of that, but he nods and smiles again, because it's nice to hear.

The door opens again, and Liam enters, his arms laden with bags. "You could've made two trips," Brett says, watching as Liam struggles over to the counter.

"I'm not weak like you," Liam says.

"Ouch," Brett responds dryly, then stands up nervously as Liam's stepdad comes in - an African-American man with kind eyes, clean-cut, almost as tall as Brett is. Brett wipes his hands on his jeans anxiously.

"Hi, Brett," Mr. Geyer says, and he seems to know Brett's nervous. "It's okay, I don't bite." He puts the bags down and reaches out to shake Brett's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Brett says. "So, you taught Liam lacrosse, huh?" 

Dean laughs. "I did. Had to find a way to burn off all that teen angst, didn't I?"

Liam slumps into one of the barstools. "Are you both trying to embarrass me?" he moans.

"Absolutely," Mrs. Geyer says cheerfully. "It's what we're here for. We aren't just a meal ticket, you know."

"I liked it better when you were," Liam says sullenly.

"Oh, relax," Dean says, laughing. "He likes you well enough to stick around."

"I'm enjoying hearing about all the things little Liam did as a kid," Brett adds. "Nice to know you've always been awkward."

Liam opens his mouth, obviously gearing up to say something scathing, when Brett interrupts and says, "I didn't say it was a bad thing, you dork," and smiles fondly.

Liam deflates, looking confused. He ends up just making a huffing noise and nibbling on a cracker. 

"Brett," Mr. Geyer says. "I've got a few more things in the car. Can you help me out?"

Liam gives Brett an apologetic look and gets up to help his mom with something, while Brett follows Mr. Geyer to the garage with a mounting sense of trepidation. This is it. This will be the interrogation. 

"Relax," Dean says gently. "I didn't bring you out here to give you the third degree, Brett. I just wanted you to know - Liam's still got some issues to work through. He's getting there, but it's slow progress, you know what I mean?"

Brett nods. "Yeah. I know." 

"What I mean to say is... he can be frustrating. I know that. Push you away when you're trying to help just to see if you'll come back."

Fuck, Brett knows that all too well. Although, to be fair, he was compounding the problem pretty severely when Liam was snapping at him all the time, so it's not like he has room to judge. 

"He gets better," Dean says. 

"Yeah," Brett says. "He does. Look, I - I'm not gonna hurt him, Mr. Geyer. I know about everything that happened with his biological dad. He told me." He watches the brief flare of anger that brings to Dean's eyes. "I just - wanted you to know, I'm not gonna hurt him." 

"I know you aren't," Dean says. "If Liam thought you were going to, he wouldn't even be in the same room as you."

Something about that makes Brett feel cold and uncomfortable - like maybe he's somehow underestimated the magnitude of Liam's trust in him, like he's somehow missed the significance of it. Because now that he thinks about it, Liam's stepdad is absolutely right - if Liam thought there was even a chance Brett would hurt him, he'd be gone. 

"Brett?" Mr. Geyer prompts gently.

"Yeah," Brett says finally. "So um - the bags?"

~*~

Dinner's pretty quiet. For as much as Liam bitches and whines about his parents telling stories about him - mostly his mom - Brett can tell, just by his scent, that he's not genuinely annoyed. He might even be enjoying it a little bit.

At the end of the night, he ends up with containers full of food to take home. Liam walks him out to his car and smiles, a little sheepish, as they stand there.

"Hope you liked dinner," Liam says.

"I did. I might even stay with you just so your mom keeps feeding me." 

Liam rolls his eyes. "Nice." He's got his arms crossed under his chest like he's cold. "So... I need to catch up with my pack," he mumbles. "Stiles and Malia mostly. I was thinking about going to see Sheriff Stilinski tomorrow."

"I'll go," Brett says.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Of course." 

Liam nods. 

"Liam!" 

They both look to the doorway; Liam's mom is standing there. "It's getting late, honey," she says, gently but firmly.

"Yeah, I'm almost done." Liam turns back to him. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah." Brett leans down, gives Liam a quick peck. "I'll see you then. Dork." 

He gets in the car, but he doesn't leave the driveway until Liam's back inside, the door safely shut and bolted behind him. 

~*~

He's so tired that, when he falls asleep, he doesn't dream.

When he wakes up, it's because his bedroom door is opening slowly. He opens his eyes drowsily to see Liam entering, his footsteps deliberately light.

"Hey," Brett groans. "How'd you get in?"

Liam steps closer to the bed. "Satomi was leaving," he says. "She let me in." He looks good today, wearing one of those new pairs of Lydia-approved jeans, a black Henley and a soft flannel shirt over the top. 

Brett reaches out and grabs the belt loop closest to him. "I like these," he says sleepily. 

Liam blushes faintly. "Figured I should wear them, seeing as I bought them," he says, then lifts the blankets and climbs into bed with Brett, sans shoes. "I knocked. You must've been passed out."

"So tired I didn't even dream." Brett rolls so his head is on Liam's shoulder, listens to his heart thumping steadily beneath his ear. "Do we have to leave yet?" he groans. "You're so warm."

"Nah. We can stay."

Brett lifts his head so he can look at Liam. "How'd you even get here?" he asks. 

"I rode my bike."

"I didn't even know you have a bike," Brett groans as he rolls out of bed. "Five minutes. I'll shower and we can head to the hospital." 

Liam tilts his head back into the pillow, then gets to his feet and edges closer, smiling. "You don't have to get straight into the shower," he says innocently.

"I do," Brett says regretfully. "I stink."

He doesn't realise the implication of Liam's words until he's suddenly backed up against the wall with Liam crowding into his space, his lips brushing the peaks of Brett's collarbones and the hollow of his throat. He closes his eyes, sighing, draws Liam closer with a hand on the back of his neck. 

"Liam," he murmurs contentedly. 

"I think you smell good," Liam replies quietly. 

"Yeah, of course you do." Brett pulls at Liam's neck a bit to get his attention. "But I smell terrible to everyone else, so I need to shower."

He wants to sound more convinced about that, but Liam's looking up at him and Brett could swear that Liam's giving him puppy dog eyes. He smiles, ducks his head and catches Liam's soft, full lips with his own, still holding his neck.

Liam's hand goes to his side, stroking the skin there. Brett senses that Liam's just about to open his mouth, traces the seam of Liam's lips with his tongue, and slides inside when Liam parts them almost instantly. 

He tastes like orange juice, which Brett finds himself not minding as he twists so Liam's against the wall and Brett's leaning his weight up between Liam's legs. He wonders, briefly, if Liam would mind being lifted up, decides against it just because they really do need to get to the hospital and if he keeps going like this they're not going to. 

Liam makes a soft noise into their kiss, and Brett reaches down, finds Liam hard against his leg, and smirks. "Oh," he murmurs, pulling away. "Is that what you want?" 

There's a slight pink tint to Liam's cheeks as he smiles a bit and looks away. "Um," he says. "Maybe not right now. Later?" 

Brett smiles. "Okay. Later." He steps back, pulls Liam's shirt back down to his jeans. "Make yourself comfortable," he calls lazily as he heads for the shower.

He knows he should hurry up, but he stays beneath the spray of water for almost fifteen minutes, letting the needles of water sting and soothe his shoulders and back. He wonders if Liam will come in, tell him to hurry up, but nothing happens, and after those fifteen minutes, he sighs and exits.

He finds Liam standing at his dresser, looking at the photos on it. He turns when Brett enters, looking guilty, as if he's done something wrong.

"That's Mom and Dad," Brett explains to Liam softly. "It was taken a few days before the fire."

Liam nods. "You guys look really happy," he offers.

"Yeah." Brett comes to stand beside Liam, looking at his mother and father's glossy, smiling faces. "Yeah, we were. I never understood why the hunters chose us that night, or even how they found us. We were careful. We didn't hurt people. We didn't hurt anything." 

There's a long pause. Then Liam says, "Mom says people hurt each other because they're scared and never learned how to deal with it any other way."

Brett knows Liam's talking about his biological father. "Yeah. Your mom's right." He sighs. "Doesn't make it any easier though, huh? To know someone set out to hurt you and probably never felt bad about it in the end."

Another nod from Liam. Brett turns to look at him when he hears Liam's breathing change like he's going to speak, finds Liam looking down at his hands.

"When my dad would beat her up," he says quietly, "he used to say it was because she made herself a target. And when I started standing up for her, he used to tell me that I needed to be disciplined so I'd show respect... so that I wouldn't end up being a "pathetic, crying pillow-biting leech" like my mom."

"Jesus, Liam," Brett says softly.

"It was okay at the time," Liam says uncomfortably. "I didn't know what a pillow-biter was or what leeches were. Mom told me there was nothing wrong with crying, so the only part that really got me was the pathetic bit." 

"You know now, though?" Brett asks quietly.

"Yeah. But," Liam says with false cheerfulness, "that's um, that's why I have a psychiatrist, after all." 

"You don't need to joke about it around me, you know," Brett says. "I know what he did to you was awful. You don't need to pretend you're over it."

"I'm not," Liam admits. "Pretending, that is. But if I don't joke about it I'll lose my fucking mind so I'd rather joke." 

Brett nods. He's never joked about his parents' death, but he can see why Liam would attempt to look for humour in his situation. 

Liam glances at him sideways, a soft, shy smile playing on his lips. "Don't feel like wearing pants?"

Brett laughs. He's still wearing his towel. "Nah," he says jokingly. "I figured I'd just go to the hospital like this."

"And shock Sheriff Stilinski out of his coma?" Liam wonders aloud.

"Hey, whatever works, right?" But Brett heads to his closet to find some stuff to wear as Liam sits down on the end of his bed. 

"You look like your mom," he says softly. 

Brett's eyes sting a little. "Thanks," he murmurs. He's not quite sure how Liam's managed to hone in on the spot inside him that's the most tender, needs the most care, but he has, and the words soothe it. Maybe he's not giving Liam enough credit for being good at reading him.

Liam doesn't say anything else, but his scent is all kinds of comforting, and Brett wishes, briefly, that he fit into Liam's hoodies the way Liam fits into his - so he could take the sensation with him everywhere, and feel safe.

~*~

Brett still doesn't like hospitals.

Even now - even after the amount of time he's spent in them with Liam's dialysis treatments - he still doesn't like them. They make him nervous, smell like death and decay, of fear, and he'd much rather be out of them.

He knows Liam can smell the same stuff he can, but Liam doesn't seem to mind them. He also seems to know the hospital - even the parts he didn't traverse for dialysis - off the back of his hand. He leads Brett confidently through the halls and elevators, never pausing.

"You know where you're going?" Brett asks.

"Yeah. I used to spend lots of time here with my stepdad." Liam stops briefly to look at a sign. "I think Sheriff Stilinski is in intensive care," he says quietly.

Brett nods. "Will Stiles be there?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Liam's walking again; Brett follows until they reach a help desk manned by a young woman, maybe in her mid twenties. She looks up and smiles when she sees Liam.

"Hey, Liam."

"Hi, Tess." Liam leans up against the counter. "Is Dad around?"

"He's in surgery," Tess says. "He should be out in an hour or so, though. Want me to leave him a message?"

"No, it's okay. Actually, um, I was looking for Sheriff Stilinski's room?"

Tess shakes her head. "No one's allowed up there, Liam," she says. "The cops have got it locked down pretty much. Oh, but his son is around. Stiles?"

"Yeah!" Liam says hurriedly. "Have you seen him?"

"He's usually lurking around the vending machine," Tess says. "Strange guy."

"Yeah. He is, sort of. But he's okay. Thanks." Liam leads Brett away from the desk, around the corner - and they find Stiles there, asleep in a chair near the vending machines.

Liam creeps forward hesitantly. "Stiles?" he murmurs.

Stiles jerks awake almost immediately, staring at Liam - and then Brett - with a growing look of panic on his face. "How did you know I was here?" he demands.

Liam shrugs, hands in his pockets. "Where else would you be?" he asks as he rocks back and forth on his heels. "Um, how's your dad?"

Stiles rubs his face. Brett wrinkles his nose when the movement causes him to catch Stiles' scent; he smells terrible, strung-out and scared and sad all at once, and even Liam's never smelled quite this bad before. 

"They took him in for more surgery about five hours ago," Stiles sighs. "Some guy named Dr. Geyer."

Liam swallows. "That's my dad," he says softly.

Stiles look up. "Is he any good?"

"Well... he's got a medical license...?" 

Stiles nods. "Have you seen Scott?" he asks.

Liam shakes his head slowly. "I haven't... I haven't seen him since Brett got hurt," he says. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"I deserved it." 

Liam nods. "Do you know what happened?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Some huge creature," he says softly. "We think - we've been researching, but it's pretty slow without Lydia - we think it's this creature called the Beast of Gevaudan." 

"What's that?"

"We don't know, but it really packs a punch, so if you see it, stay away, okay?" 

Liam rocks on his heels. Brett's willing to bet money that Liam would like nothing more than this conversation to either cheer up or be over, but he doesn't really let on. "Do you need anything?" Brett asks quietly.

Stiles almost startles, like he'd forgotten Brett was there. "No, I'm alright. I'm just gonna wait until they're done. But, um, Liam?"

Liam blinks. "Mm?"

"Can you tell your dad - to take care of him?" Stiles asks shakily. "He's all I've got left."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell him, Stiles." And then, in a rare display of affection, Liam reaches out and squeezes Stiles' shoulder. "Just... try to sleep or something?" 

"Yeah. Right."

~*~

Liam's so quiet Brett's beginning to wonder if he's dead.

He reaches over, only one hand on the steering wheel, and slides his hand around the back of Liam's neck. "You okay?"

"It's all fucked up," Liam says. "Everything's a fucking mess. And nobody knows what's going on. And nobody even knows how to find out, and Sheriff Stilinski is worse, and Hayden's dead, Lydia's in Eichen house, nobody's heard from Kira in more than a week-"

Brett pulls over, because Liam's heartbeat is rising rapidly and the stench of panic is permeating the car. He unclips his seatbelt when the car is stopped and moves as close as he can with the handbrake where it is, wraps his arm totally around Liam's shoulders, and presses his forehead against Liam's temple. 

"We're gonna get them all back," Brett murmurs. He doesn't know how else to comfort Liam, how to soothe him when even his presence and scent don't seem to be working very well. "Okay? What was that thing you told me the other day? That things can't always be bad or good?"

"Regression to the mean," Liam whispers. His voice is a few octaves higher; Brett pulls him in closer.

"Yeah. If things are bad now, they've gotta start looking up soon, right?" 

Liam leans back and winds the window down. "You've been saying that for weeks," he says, "and things keep getting worse. The only way they can go downhill from here is if we all die." 

Brett closes his eyes. He doesn't know what to say anymore; he's out of ideas. And just as he realises that, he also realises that maybe he needs to let Liam despair for a little bit. Maybe that's his way of processing everything and he's been shoving it down and away for Brett's benefit. 

"Hey," Brett says. "You wanna go somewhere? Play some lacrosse?" 

There's a long pause, but Liam nods eventually. "Yeah. My gear's at my place though."

"That's okay. We'll stop there."

It isn't so far to Liam's house; when they get there, his mother's inside, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. She smiles at them when they enter.

"Hi, boys."

"Hi, Mrs. Geyer," Brett says.

"You can call me Hannah, sweetie. Everyone else does," she says cheerfully. "Lunch?"

Liam's already stalking upstairs, mumbling, "No thanks," as he does. His mom stares after him, looking worried. 

"We went and saw Stiles' dad," Brett explains quietly.

"Oh." She shakes her head. "That poor man. Dean did say he was called in for urgent surgery... I suppose that would be why. Are you sure you don't want something to eat? Just because Liam isn't doesn't mean you can't."

"Maybe to go?" Brett asks hopefully.

She smiles and pats his cheek. "Good boy." 

She chatters away as she makes a sandwich, and Brett tries to keep his eyes from darting to the stairs constantly. Finally, he hears Liam come down, carrying his lacrosse bag.

With a smile and a wink, Mrs. Geyer hands over two sandwiches to Brett. "Make sure he eats one," she says.

Brett smiles back. "I will. He'll cave eventually. Thanks, Mrs. G." He kisses her cheek on the way out like he's seen Liam do, unlocks the car. Liam slides in. He still looks pretty distressed, but Brett knows what it's like to feel as if your pack is falling apart.

Liam seems to have calmed down a little once they get to the pitch. And Brett knows Liam uses lacrosse to wind down, so he's not surprised when Liam seems a little better once he's shooting goals. 

Brett's not very good in goal - it's not his usual thing - so Liam scores five times before Brett manages to save one, leaving Liam snickering. 

"Nice reflexes."

"Fuck you, Liam." 

Liam's mom invites him to stay for dinner that night, but he doesn't - he has homework to do and he knows Liam does as well. So he kisses Liam goodbye and takes his leave, before the sun sets, watching out for any chimeras or Theo or this so-called Beast of Gevaudan Stiles mentioned.

Just as he's brushing his teeth, his phone vibrates on his desk. He goes into his room and swipes.

**From** : Liam Dunbar, 9:48PM  
Night :) 

Brett smiles a little. He hasn't told Liam he loves him. But he's working up to it slowly, wants to tell him sooner rather than later. He's pretty sure he means it now. That it isn't just that he's relieved Liam's alive and healthy.

**To** : Liam Dunbar, 9:49PM  
Night, dork 

With that, he climbs into bed, yawning, and flicks his light off, spreading out and tucking his face into a pillow that contains Liam's lingering scent, and closes his eyes.  
He's out before he has time to think about the next morning. 

~*~

The muted lights of the hospital flash around him.

Brett blinks, standing upright. The hallway is dark, and he can hear a faint coughing noise in the distance. 

He starts forward apprehensively. The hallways seem to warp around him, each windowed door framing some obscure, frightening shadow, barely muting the twisted moans behind them.

Somewhere, in the back of his head, he knows he's dreaming. But it's such a faint realisation it doesn't hit him. And he can smell Liam's scent; instead of its normal, soothing apple and chamomile tones, it's wretched and oily, pungent with fear and pain and death.

"Liam?" he calls shakily. 

He hears the clicking, mechanical drone of the Doctors, starts to run. Because he can smell Liam's scent and knows he's hurt, worse this time than he was when they captured him and Hayden, and he can hear the Doctors, so-

He rounds the corner, and Liam's facedown on an operating table, his hair soaked through with sweat and his mouth and chin covered in black liquid. His shirt is hiked up and-  
Brett's stomach rolls as he sees that Liam's back is sliced open, bone and tissue visible, and the Doctors are pulling something out of him, saying, "His condition is terminal," before dumping the organ onto a silver tray.

Liam's eyes flicker to him, and just as Brett's beginning forward, they flash with betrayal and distrust, and then the room is fading away as one of the Doctors plunges a syringe into the back of Liam's neck.

"LIAM!"

~*~

He wakes up thrashing, in a cold sweat, blankets tangled around him.

He barely takes the time to register that it was just a dream before he's staggering out of bed, dragging his clothes on, and picking up his keys. He has to make sure Liam's alright - that he really was just dreaming.

The drive to Liam's is hell.

He's in so, so deep. And this dream has made him realise that he's pretty intensely in love with Liam, and he's not ready for that. He's not ready to be in love with Liam, whose life seems as fleeting and fragile as a butterfly's, ready to snap and break from too much pressure.

He's freaking out, and now there's one half of him that wants nothing more than to bury his face in Liam's chest and hold on tight, and another half that wants to run away and forget how Liam makes him feel. That seems safer, emotionally, than falling in love with him only to lose him. 

And he will. How long to werewolves live? Not very fucking long between psychotic doctors, hunters, assassins, and alpha packs. He's kidding himself if he thinks he or Liam will even make it to adulthood. 

"Fuck," Brett moans, wiping his face and surprised to find his hand coming back wet with tears. "Oh, fuck."

He parks around the corner from Liam's house and sprints up to the side of the house, where Liam's bedroom window is, scales up the drainpipe and onto the roof. It isn't exactly easy, but adrenaline is fuelling him, keeping him going. 

His heartbeat slows a little when he sees a Liam-shaped lump in the bed, facing away from him, spread out the way he's used to seeing Liam. He's alive.

He raps frantically on the window, feels kind of bad when Liam shoots upright in bed, clearly afraid. He looks around, then, finally, to the window, eyes widening when he sees Brett there.

Still, Liam stumbles out of bed and opens the window. "Brett?" he croaks. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Brett climbs in, carefully, and turns to face Liam, runs his hands up and down Liam's arms and shoulders. "Hey," he breathes. "Hey, are you okay?"

Liam stares at him. "I'm - yeah?" 

And Brett wants so badly to tell him. He wants so badly to tell Liam that he's sorry for ever hurting him and that he does love him, probably has for a little while, even if that's stupid, but the words won't come out and he's not sure he should say them anyway.

When Brett doesn't say anything, Liam takes his hand - curls his fingers right around it, holds on tight - and leads him to the bed. Brett sits down against the headboard, barely registers when Liam climbs onto his lap. He's wearing a loose grey t-shirt and boxers, and he doesn't seem to feel self conscious about it.

"I dreamed you were dead," Brett croaks.

Liam looks like he's softening, like he's starting to understand. "I'm not," he says helpfully. "I'm right here. I'm fine." 

Brett can't say anything. He feels stressed out and scared and now he's realising - Liam's out of immediate danger, Liam's fine, and Brett doesn't have to hold it together anymore. Liam's safety isn't depending on him staying strong. And now he's beginning to crumble. Finally, everything that's happened over the last five or six weeks is catching up with him.

Liam must realise, at least a little, what's going through Brett's head. In the next moment, he picks up Brett's hand and puts it against his chest.

Liam's heart purrs under Brett's palm, steady and soothing like the sound of rain on a roof. "I'm right here," Liam reaffirms. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Can you breathe?" Brett croaks. He thinks the scariest thing he's ever seen is Liam choking on black liquid, unable to breathe or help himself in any way. "Are you-" He snakes his hand to Liam's back, pulling his shirt up. He only feels smooth skin, the sensitive dimples at the base of Liam's spine.

"I'm breathing right now," Liam says quietly. "You can feel it." 

Brett nods. He watches as Liam gets up, pads into the bathroom, and returns with a glass of water, hands it to him.

"I'm-"

"Drink it," Liam says. "It'll help." 

Brett downs the glass, surprised when Liam turns out to be right. The cold water soothes him, and when he's finished, he looks up at Liam.

Liam smiles faintly. "Water helps my episodes," he says. "I figured it might help you too."

"Thanks," Brett murmurs.

Liam tilts his head. "Wanna stay here tonight?"

"Your parents-"

"Are already asleep," Liam says. "You can sneak out the window in the morning. No big deal."

Brett hesitates, but eventually he nods, and Liam smiles. He settles back into bed, facing Brett and only turning to hit the light switch. Just before he does, he says, "We can leave it on if that helps," in such a sincere tone Brett knows it'll be a judgment-free zone if he says yes.

"It's okay," he says. Then, after plucking up the guts to say it, he says, "you're here. That's enough."

There's a pause. Brett can't see Liam's face.

"Yeah," Liam says finally. "Always." 

Brett hears the sincerity in that too. He falls asleep with Liam nosing at his arm, scent-marking him. 

_This isn't so bad_ , he thinks as he drifts off. _Everything's fine._

_Liam's fine._


End file.
